


All the King's Men

by apartment



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Fairy Tale Elements, Falling In Love, Fantasy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-09
Updated: 2019-02-09
Packaged: 2019-10-24 17:16:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 28,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17708399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apartment/pseuds/apartment
Summary: At fourteen, Alec had given his heart away to a witch. Now, Magnus set off to get it back.or: a fairy tale that grew legs, then plotBoth hope and anxiety roiled within Alec, leaving him trembling, and every word from Magnus added to it. Alec opened his mouth to interrupt, to call it all off, because clearly this was more effort than was worth it, thanhewas worth. But he thought of the dimming excitement in Magnus’ eyes when he’d confessed his empty heart, the sadness, the pity. He didn’t want Magnus to look at him like that anymore.





	All the King's Men

**Author's Note:**

> thank you kindly the people who helped: [jillyfae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jillyfae/pseuds/jillyfae), the first person i went to with this idea, and then [akaparalian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/akaparalian) and [cryptidbane](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Impetus/pseuds/CryptidBane) (who also organized this collection), then [sherlocksdaughter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlocksdaughter), who withstood the barrage of my “pacing tho??” questions. everyone who voted on the present/past tense poll and gave me their input. [ravelen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ravelen), who helped me change 5k of this into past tense when i finally decided on it. 
> 
> and of course, to my occasional beta and love of my life [stolemyhheart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stolemyhheart), who did all that and more. 
> 
> i encourage you to sit down with this one. love is so magical.

 

 

As it always did in Magnus’ bedroom, the morning broke slowly. Light filtered in through his blinds and curtains, laying on the floor as soft, white stripes. Alec blinked awake in increments. The first thing he registered was the cold, and the second was that he was curled under only a thin bedsheet.

Alec groaned unhappily, trying to burrow deeper into the mattress in vain. He shivered. Next to him, Magnus was still asleep, cuddled in a ball of their heavier comforter and blanket. Alec tugged lightly and found them securely under Magnus’ weight, so he grumpily kicked at him, not hard enough to hurt, but definitely hard enough to jostle.

“You stole all the blankets,” he whined, when Magnus’ eyes fluttered open. Magnus’ face softened when he focused on Alec, a smile pulling his lips up. There was a crease on his cheek from the pillowcase. Alec wanted him, but he wanted to be warm more. He tugged pointedly at the blankets.

“Oops,” said Magnus, sheepish. He raised off the bed enough to give Alec the chance to pull enough blanket to cover himself. “How domestic.”

Alec laughed quietly, his throat croaky from disuse, and a little hoarse from the night before. He wrapped himself up in the blankets and closed his eyes, trying to grab at least another half-an-hour of sleep.

How domestic, Magnus’ words echoed. It _was_ domestic, he was right. He and Magnus had been falling into bed more often than ever recently, and Alec hadn’t left right after for nearly a month now. Waking up next to Magnus was common enough that Alec had no qualms about shaking him awake to reclaim his stolen blanket.

The thought wasn’t reassuring, or happy. Alec clenched his eyes shut tighter and tried to force himself into sleep. But none came.

For almost half a year, he and Magnus had been sleeping together. It had been the progression of a startling chemistry and gravity between them, but Alec had maintained the casual nature of their arrangement with obstinate consistency.

Magnus had raised the idea of dating just once in their time together, when he’d mentioned, almost as if just wondering aloud, that it’d be nice to date, officially. Alec had said that he wasn’t ready, and that had been that. No matter Alec’s hesitance, he’d always been met with respect and patience from Magnus.

Patience, because Magnus probably thought that eventually, if this continued, they’d fall even further together. He had all the time in the world, obviously, and he could wait until gunshy Alec Lightwood was ready.

He wondered sometimes, what it would be like to date Magnus, to call him boyfriend or partner, to have that famed intimacy of a significant other, to share their lives. In the quietest moments of the morning, Alec could admit to himself that he’d like to fall in love with Magnus.

It wasn’t that simple though, and the truth was one that haunted Alec. He didn’t like to dwell on it, but around Magnus, he couldn’t help but dredge up old, repressed wounds. But the fact of the matter was, Alec would never be ready, because he would never fall in love with Magnus, because he never could.

Because at fourteen and growing, small and scared of the way his gaze strayed to the wrong people in a room, Alec had given his heart away to a witch.

“You’re thinking so loud,” Magnus grumbled from behind him. Alec popped his head out from under the blanket to glare at him balefully.

“I was trying to sleep,” said Alec.

Magnus just huffed and said, “So was I.” After another few minutes of quiet, dozing silence, Magnus tentatively asked, “Is something wrong?”

Alec ached. He wanted Magnus to know him, to see inside. He’d envisioned this a thousand times: Magnus would hear that Alec couldn’t love, and he would turn him out or keep Alec around for however long he remained attractive. But the morning had bled into Alec’s bones, bringing with it both a soft pliancy and rising bud of faith. If he was ever going to say anything, it would be now.

“I have a reason why I’ve said no to dating,” Alec said. The moment the words left his mouth, it was over. He had no false excuses prepared, had no thoughts but the truth clanging around his brain. There was nowhere to go but forward. “I gave away my ability to love when I was fourteen, so I can’t—. I can’t, could never love you.” He shrugged his free shoulder. “So.”

Magnus sat up, first boosted onto his elbows and then all the way, hovering over Alec. His eyes were wide and uncertain, like he was watching a wounded animal in its final moments. A hesitant hand carded through Alec’s hair, and Alec closed his eyes against the way his body hurt at the thought of losing this.

It was too much to bear. He pulled away, sitting up and joining Magnus against the headboard. Alec drew his knees up to his chest and wrapped an arm around them. The other hung limply on the sheets between them, and after a moment, Magnus covered it with his own.

“Will you explain?” he asked quietly. “Saying something like you can’t love, that you gave it away. Alexander, I don’t—. I don’t understand.”

Alec couldn’t look at him, the heartbreak and confusion that would be painted on his face. He studied a strip of window light on the bed and predicted where it’d be by the time he finished his story. And endless expanse of time stretched out in front of him, and there was nothing to traverse it with but the skeletons in his closet.

He pulled his hand away from Magnus, clasped it tight with his other, and began digging.

“Well, I was fourteen. It was just before the parabatai ceremony, when Jace and I had agreed to bond but hadn’t yet. And I liked him, like, was attracted to him, and basically projected all my attraction toward men toward him, because he was the closest I could get to someone my age, someone who liked me. But I couldn’t bond with him while I still had those feelings. He’d figure it out, and it would… god, it would’ve ruined everything. At least that’s what I thought.”

A quick glance at Magnus showed him listening intently, his eyes clear and focused. “So what did you do?” asked Magnus.

Alec tried to hold it back, but a harsh bark of laughter escaped him, like a punched-out grimace. “I fucked up.”

“Alec,” said Magnus reproachfully.

“No, really, I—.” Alec sighed. “I found this warlock who mundanes went to for love potions and natural remedies. She had a reputation for bringing people together. The mundanes called her the love witch, but I knew she was a warlock, and figured if she made love potions, then she could make _anti_ -love potions. So I asked—. I asked her to remove my love from me, to get rid of it.”

“Oh, Alexander,” breathed Magnus. His voice was tremulous, a broken twig barely attached to its branch. Like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing, but was already halfway down the fall. Alec grimaced and ducked his head; he should’ve ended things with Magnus long ago, before Magnus was in this deep.

Still, he forged on. “I knew I was gay, and between Jace and the Clave, it wasn’t worth it. I couldn’t trust anyone to support me. It just… it wasn’t worth it. And the witch, she laughed a little when I said it, in disbelief probably, but it’s not like she was going to look a gift horse in the mouth.” He shrugged. “Nephilim energy, a young Nephilim’s love? You know how potent that magic is.”

“She should never have agreed,” said Magnus fiercely. He grabbed Alec’s shoulder and turned him around. Magnus’ glamour had dropped, and his eyes were a blinding, flashing gold. “She should have taught you how much love means and sent you on your way. Alexander, I’m so sorry.”

“No, Magnus, it’s okay, I—,” he cut himself off. He what? Alec had no clue where to go from here. What could possibly be next for them?

“Alexander, you don’t have to talk about this anymore if you don’t want to,” Magnus said.

His eyes were caring but dimmed, like he was realizing the immensity of Alec’s confession. That Alec couldn’t love, that he could never be what Magnus wanted, and deserved. Alec wanted nothing more than to erase that scowl from Magnus’ face, but couldn’t manage even a halfway reassuring smile. He had bottled this story up for years, caged in his empty, aching chest, and it burst from him now.

“No, it’s okay, I have to keep—. Just that, the way she looked at me,” Alec recalled, and rubbed his hands over his forearms. Magnus brushed a lock of hair behind Alec’s ear and ran his hand down his neck, brushing the deflect rune. It was grounding, but there was little Magnus could do to calm the roiling in Alec’s gut. He swallowed thickly, bile in his throat. “And then she said, ‘Your heart, Nephilim?’ I’ll never forget that, how she stared _into_ me, the way her voice sounded. She saw my heart and liked it, I guess. It didn’t even take long, and it didn’t hurt. I didn’t even know if it worked until I went back and saw Jace, and my heart didn’t start beating fast, or anything. And I haven’t loved since.”

Magnus stroked a hand down his back. “How could she?” he whispered, a condemnation of the world. “Alexander, what if we find her, get your heart back?”

It took a moment for the words to register, but when they did, Alec blanched. “Magnus, it’s been ten years, I don’t—.”

“Do you want to love?”

Alec swallowed with an audible click. He nodded, one single jerky motion.

“Then we can find her. If she’s a warlock, and she lives here in Brooklyn, it can’t be too difficult to figure out who she is. We’ll find her. We can still fix this.”

“You don’t have to do this,” Alec said. “Magnus, I can’t ask this of you just because we’ve been sleeping together. We’re not even dating; it’s not worth it to you.” But there was a sliver of hope in his chest, like a slice of moon peeking out from behind shadow. Could there really be a solution?

“Let me be clear, Alexander,” Magnus said, his body held tightly. “I would do the same for any person who gave away their heart because of society forcing them to be in the closet. I’ve experienced enough bigotry in my life that any measure of help I can offer is _entirely_ worth it.”

Alec gazed at him, at the smooth lines of his body and the way he held himself, at the resolute set of his jaw. “Are you sure?” he asked, and felt like his spine was teetering, about to tumble over.

“I like you, Alexander. So yes, I will admit to a personal stake here. But I want to be here for you, and there’s no way I can’t do nothing after hearing this. Let me help you. Let me search for answers and get back to you. What harm could it do?”

What harm, indeed. Alec choked on the bundle of emotion in his throat, the potential disappointment and the hope that felt more hazardous than sweet. “Yes,” he said, and added, because he would: “I would like that.”

What would it feel like to love? To fall in love, and be in love, to share love with someone? Magnus was here in front of him, a presence somehow already unshakeable and constant. What would it feel like, to be in love with Magnus? Alec yearned, something inside him reaching.

* * *

The next time he knocked on Magnus’ door, it took almost no time at all for the heavy wood to swing open. Alec was used to Magnus lounging on the sofa or balcony with a drink in hand, or once, memorably, in the bedroom already naked and panting. So he wasn’t expecting Magnus to be directly on the other side, already pulling Alec into the loft with a hand around his wrist.

“I think I’ve found the solution to your problem,” he said in lieu of greeting, and a spike of surprise and apprehension and excitement shot through Alec.

He pulled up short, stilling them. “What do you mean?”

Doubt laced his voice, and Alec didn’t try to hide it. Maybe it would overshadow the heavy regret that he’d told Magnus everything last week. He’d been half-asleep and pliant and tender from the night before, and Magnus had been as reassuring as always. But he regretted it now, feeling panic stir in his stomach; the thought of seeking out such a drastic change was more than he could handle, even if he’d thought himself ready last week. He wasn’t then, and wasn’t now.

Magnus eyed him carefully, and his voice gentled when he replied. “There’s a warlock I know, she’s a piece of work, honestly. But she specializes in emotion magic, and lived in this area until a few years ago. It took a fair bit of patience with my rolodex—don’t laugh!” he warned, as if Alec was anywhere close to amusement. “But I believe she’s the only one capable, who would have offered services to a Shadowhunter.”

“Even a pathetic, vulnerable one who didn’t know better?” Alec asked dryly. There were plenty of warlocks who would take advantage of such a situation.

“ _Especially_ a pathetic, vulnerable one who didn’t know better,” said Magnus, his voice hollowed and angry. “Not that you were ever pathetic.”

Alec sighed and pulled away from Magnus’ grasp, and their hands fell to their sides. He looked everywhere in the room but Magnus—was that painting always that color?—and felt his shoulders slowly tense.

Magnus frowned, tugged him to the sofa, and turned to pour himself a drink before joining Alec on the chaise. They sat side-by-side, but Alec held his body tight, unwilling to relax, and as if sensing it, Magnus didn’t reach out to touch him again. “Do you still want to do this?” Magnus asked quietly. He took a sip of his drink, and didn’t look Alec’s way.

Alec closed his eyes against the sudden shame that welled inside him. “I don’t know,” he managed, because that was the truth. Not just that he didn’t know if he wanted to, but that he didn’t know what he was feeling, and he didn’t know if he even wanted to know.

Everything was up in the air in a flimsy, disjointed way, and perhaps Magnus could live in the moment and enjoy it fully, but Alec had never been able to turn his brain off. It was frustrating, because for the past months, Magnus had been his release from that very tightly-wound worrying, but now he was contributing to it more than anything. The constants in his life were awry, and it left Alec with an edge of alarm.

It didn’t help when Magnus sagged backward into the soft cushions and stayed silent. Was Alec supposed to reach out and touch him, try to reassure him, even if it was false? Or leave, having worn out his welcome? Or say he would think about it? He and Magnus hadn’t known each other for a long time, but sometimes it felt like they had; Alec didn’t remember the last time they were so out of sync.

He took a breath. “Magnus—,” while at the same moment, Magnus chose to quickly cut in: “Let me at least tell you about what I’ve found.” Alec paused and snapped his mouth closed so quickly his teeth clicked.

That couldn’t hurt, probably. He nodded, and Magnus continued: “Iris Rouse is a warlock, who lived in New York from around World War II until a few years ago. She studies and practices in human emotion, connection, what makes us people, and so on. If anyone could have taken your heart—and been willing to, honestly, I don’t know what she was thinking—it’d be her.”

Iris Rouse. The name sat unfamiliarly in Alec’s mouth, and he regretted never asking for the witch’s identity all those years ago. She didn’t look like an Iris, at least not in the way Magnus looked like _Magnus_. The eggshell of hope in Alec’s chest reemerged, but with it came a deep exhaustion, like his muscles were strained at repressing it. He thought he might be in over his head already.

“How would we find her?” Alec asked. His voice threatened to break, but he swallowed it down.

“She went off the grid last year, after hopping around between South Africa and Sri Lanka, or so I’ve heard. No one I asked knows where she is. But there’s a warlock here in New York, a grumpy old hermit, if I may, who knows more of abstract magic than anyone. I’ve heard of ways to track people without one of their possessions and if such a thing really exists, we’d learn it there.”

“We’d have to go meet him?” Alec asked.

Magnus nodded. “It would be a bit of a trek around the city, but we could make it together and wouldn’t have to go far. The least we could do is ask, right?”

Both hope and anxiety roiled within Alec, leaving him trembling and off-kilter, and every word from Magnus added to it. Alec opened his mouth to interrupt, to call it all off, because clearly this was more effort than was worth it, than _he_ was worth. But he thought of the dimming excitement in Magnus’ eyes when he’d confessed his empty heart, the sadness, the pity. He didn’t want Magnus to look at him like that anymore.

He inhaled, then exhaled slowly and in the same breath said, “Okay.” He looked at Magnus, and saw a flicker of surprise lingering there. “Let’s do it.”

It was only then that Magnus’ expression broke into a soft grin. Alec could be imagining the relief mixed in, but somehow he doubted it. Magnus moved to place his hand on Alec’s arm slowly, giving Alec plenty of time to shift away. But Alec didn’t, because this at least, he knew he wanted. The uncertain air hung between them, a new nervousness he’d never had with Magnus, but at least some things were still easy.

* * *

The crosswalk countdown was at ten when they approached the intersection, but beside him, Magnus made no attempt to speed up. Alec glanced at him, burrowing deeper into his scarf as a gust of wind plowed over them.

“Are we gonna make this?” he asked.

Magnus looked at him askance, then nodded toward the countdown. “And run?” he countered incredulously, then chuffed out a laugh. “I’m not big on running, Alexander.”

They came to a stop at the intersection alone, the only ones who didn’t cross. “We could’ve made it,” grumbled Alec. It was blustering out, and Magnus had strictly forbidden him from activating any runes, including those that would counter the cold. Something about the warlock they sought being able to track Nephilim magic. He felt bare with his skin glamoured clean by Magnus’ magic, and sorely missed his warmth rune.

Magnus breathed in deep, nose up to the frosty air. He closed his eyes and seemed to melt into it, if melting could have been in any way appropriate for the temperature. “But the air is so fresh,” he said, and Alec couldn't hold back a scoff. They lived in Brooklyn.

“We live in Brooklyn,” he said. “Nothing about the air is fresh. There are frozen particles of dust in the air right now.”

“Don’t spoil this for me,” whined Magnus. “I miss the days before the Industrial Revolution.”

He started across the street when the walk sign lit up, and Alec followed with a sigh. They’d been wandering for two hours now, ducking into alleyways that Magnus claimed pointed him closer to their destination. He trusted Magnus that this warlock existed, sure, but he wasn’t convinced this excursion would bear fruit, or that he even lived in New York anymore. What kind of hermit agoraphobe lived in the city that never sleeps? How did he go grocery shopping? Then again: warlock, magic, portals.

There was only one thing Alec was sure of at this point, because he obstinately wouldn’t call them lost: even frozen toes couldn't keep Alec from inadvisably dogging Magnus’ every step on an insane trip like this. Alec caught up to Magnus with a few long strides and noticed Magnus glancing over every few seconds, clearly gauging Alec’s level of discomfort and irritation. He had no right, Alec huffed to himself, to be so cute.

With a little side-step, he nudged Magnus with his shoulder and shoved his hand into his jacket pocket, twining his fingers with Magnus’. “You have to at least warm me up then,” he said, and felt the cold dissipate at Magnus’ answering smile.

“Gladly.” His fingers tightened around Alec’s, and a magical wave of warmth spread from Magnus’ hands to his, tingling up his arm.

Magnus’ magic had a signature Alec was used to now, but he still thought fondly to the times that Magnus lost control in bed, when Alec was trailing soft kisses along the side of his neck, and the low hum of magic had filled the air, crackling in the hot air between them. It used to surprise him, every time, both in the sheer newness of it and that he could take Magnus so deep into pleasure. Alec relished the slightest glimpse of it, when Magnus trusted him enough to reveal his power, like now.

They walked a few blocks at brisk pace, pushed along by pedestrians and weather both. Alec’s nose was red with cold, he could tell, and he huddled as close to Magnus as he could without tripping them up or slowing them down. Finally, Magnus turned them left, then half a block later, another, into yet another small alleyway, where they were thankfully shielded from the wind.

It didn’t look like much, smells and trash cans and a dumpster, plastic bags and damp paper, puddles of water along the curb that he wasn’t sure were someone’s piss or lingering rainwater. The squalor didn’t faze him much, although New York had a distinctly different but equally disgusting brand of nasty compared to blood and ichor, but he saw Magnus wrinkle his nose.

“This is gross,” he said, on principle, because it was and also because he couldn't otherwise tell their purpose here. There were no mysterious doors or tunnels or manholes that could point in a new direction. “And also, am I just missing something? I don’t see anything. Again.”

Magnus pulled up short, obviously observing the same thing as Alec. “You’re right,” he mused. “On both accounts. I don’t really see anything in this one… hm.” Alec momentarily mourned the loss of Magnus’ hand when he drew them from his pockets, but a new wave of warmth rolled through him when Magnus pulled off his gloves with his teeth. It shouldn’t have been sexy, but goddamn, it was. Hands out in front of him, Magnus released a slow ripple of magic, letting it waft over the alleyway as if scanning. “Huh.”

“There’s nothing here, is there?” asked Alec. Magnus looked some measure of confused, which was not helping. “But you said the last one pointed us in this direction?”

“It did,” confirmed Magnus. “Maybe the next alleyway over?” The confusion didn’t abate. Alec eyed him wryly, then turned to the open end of the alleyway behind him, where he could nearly see the billowing gusts of chill. He really, really, didn’t want to go back out there. With a sigh of resignation, Alec allowed Magnus to grab his hand and pull him into the wintery cold.

The next alleyway over was the same, but with even less character and more mysteriously wet pavement. The third they tried contained a rattling trash can that excited Magnus for a second before revealing only a malnourished raccoon eating some scraps. Magnus gave it an energy boost, then let it scramble into a nearby gutter.

Alec thought about asking if they were lost, but the words aloud felt more damning than even thinking it very, very loudly. He was fine spending time with Magnus, so it wasn’t like he had a lot to complain about. Plus, he had even less of an excuse than Magnus—Shadowhunters spent much more time traversing the streets of their cities than warlocks who specialized in inter-spacial and dimensional travel.

The fourth alley was three blocks from where they began, and it was there that Alec found himself staring at a monstrosity he could never have imagined, not even after the demons he’d been unfortunate enough to see the insides of. “What is _that_?” he whispered, scared to wake the mass of flesh in front of them.

Magnus elbowed him with a quick shushing noise, and Alec glared at him, rubbing his arm melodramatically. It hadn’t hurt, but whatever; he had every right to ask, because really: what the _fuck_ was that? It looked familiar in a hazy way, probably something Alec once took note of in when he was training but never came across, lost to the recesses of his memory.  

“A rat king,” replied Magnus, his voice hushed. But still, like an invocation, the words seemed to wake the beast, and the shadowy bodies quivered into wakefulness. It emerged from the far corner of the alleyway, and Alec swore he heard the rats’ tiny claws scratch against the concrete. He wrinkled his nose in disgust, then took a step closer to—and in front of—Magnus involuntarily. Fucking New York.

The rats were one jumbled mess, falling on top of each other, their tails tangled together like a ball of yarn. Like lovebugs, but many of them all at once, and not small and harmless. It was revolting and intriguing in equal measure.

“Keep your secrets and don’t lie to it,” Magnus hissed, quickly and barely audible. Alec managed a jerky nod, closing his mouth with an audible click instead of letting his instinctive “What?” escape.

“What’s this?” one head of the rat king chittered. Alec froze, startled silent; he wasn’t used to non-humanoid creatures being sentient. Its voice was raspy and sounded wet, as if full of phlegm. “Two travelers in my home,” another said. A third rat laughed, its teeth gnashing, and a fourth followed: “Didn’t know not to roam.” The rat king moved forward a foot and seemed to draw itself up, larger than should have been possible. “Or do they arrive with intent?”

“We wish to see the Warlock Three. I know they lived on this ley line,” replied Magnus. Warlock Three? The rat king hissed at the name, and Magnus held one of his hands at the ready. Alec ran a finger over his stele, still harnessed. He didn’t want to give away their position, if they truly were close to the warlock—warlocks?—, but anything was better than getting bitten.

“Lived here, yes,” said the rat king. “But do they live here still? Three they are, and not of one mind. Who knows where they abide?” Somewhere on the body, a head that Alec couldn't see cackled, squeaky and ugly.

“If anyone knows, it’s you,” said Alec, when Magnus failed to speak. It wasn’t a lie, or he thought not, which had to be good enough. It occurred to him then that Magnus probably knew too much to speak innocently, his hands tied through years of experience and gossip, while Alec was the safer choice, unable to lie about something he had no knowledge of.

The rat king chittered again. “And why do you seek them?”

“For help,” he answered. That was simple, without betraying his confidence, and also entirely the truth.

“Why should they help you?” another head asked. Another echoed the question, and a third joined in, chanting: “Why should they help you? Why should they help you?”

But this Alec didn’t have an answer for, not one that both kept his reasons hidden and remained truthful. He was prepared to tell the warlock—warlocks, plural?—his story, but knew better than to give anything to a rat king, who bargained with secrets and couldn’t be lied to. He looked at Magnus, who was biting his lip.

Magnus answered. “We ask it of them, and bring offerings in return, if they’d like.”

A roar erupted from the rat king, each rat head howling at once. “In return, he said,” one of them crowed, while another yelled, “A bargain. A bargain! He makes a bargain.” Alec knew of no trade Magnus was willing to make, nor of any jewel or money or valuable they’d brought to part with, but he kept his mouth shut and let the rat king rumble in excitement. Finally: “He offers a trade, and the Three are paid.”

There was no question among the chatter, so both he and Magnus stayed silent, waiting. When the rats quieted, the alleyway was still with bated breath. Behind them, the whoosh of the wind was apparent, and Alec realized belatedly that his fingertips were freezing. He flexed them and lamented his need to have his fingers uncovered for archery. When no one spoke, Alec siddled a step closer to Magnus. “What now?” he hazarded.

Magnus placed a warning hand on Alec’s arm, stilling him. “Wait.” He was watching the rat king cautiously, but made no move forward.

“Will you proceed?” the rat king asked, all at once, as a hive.

Alec swallowed. “Yes,” he answered, and the moment the word left his mouth, the rats scattered in every direction, over the walls and into the gutter, behind the dumpster and into the shadows. The flurry of movement sent Alec stumbling a startled step backward, and he bumped into Magnus, who was reeling the same way. “I thought a rat king was tangled together.” It doesn’t seem possible, but: “Were they separate that entire time?”

Magnus looked as discomfited as he felt. “I don’t know,” he shook his head. “But maybe. Perhaps—based on an old text I once read, but I’m not sure—that they’re still connected. Even apart, they’re the rat king. Many minds as one, but a network connected without physical connection.”

“How is that possible?” Alec asked.

Magnus frowned. “It shouldn’t be, normally. For a rat king made from nature. But—,” he wiggled his fingers. “Abstract magic. I assume the Warlock Three had something to do with this.”

Synthetic rat king? But he had more pressing questions, namely, “The Warlock Three?” Alec echoed. “Magnus, you didn’t say anything about _three_ warlocks.” It itched at the edges of his nerves, to know he was going into what could be hostile territory with explicit instructions not to prepare himself beforehand.

Magnus started forward distractedly, eyes tracking over the buildings on either side of them. He was looking for something, but Alec didn’t know what. He looked around as well, but saw nothing but brick, dulled by weather and covered in mold in places. “They’re one of the most scholared warlocks in the city,” he said absentmindedly, raising a blue-aura’ed hand to the wall and squinting at whatever it revealed.

“ _One_ of?” Alec shoved his hands deep in his pockets and huddled as close as he could without interrupting Magnus.

“The Warlock Three’s mark is two extra heads,” said Magnus, grinning with obvious relish. Dramatic. Alec would roll his eyes, if he wasn’t so busy gaping.

“As in two extra _functioning_ heads?”

“Isn’t it crazy?” Magnus asked, delighted. Alec was beginning to think that his definition of crazy needed to have a higher standard, just for his own sanity. In front of the wall, Magnus made a soft “Ah” sound and tapped a brick with a finger. It glowed a flash of gold then slid out of its slot, falling to the ground. An adjacent brick did the same moments later, then a third. “Their magical propensity is actually not extremely high. I believe that, for example, _I_ have more raw power. But the Warlock Three have spent almost half a millennia in the Spiral Labyrinth, and their intellect is unmatched.”

“Then why aren’t they… y’know…,” he waved his hand around, like it at all explained what he meant. Running things, was what Alec implied, but didn’t want to say. He was still Shadowhunter leadership, and Magnus was still the High Warlock.

Magnus hummed in acknowledgment, a sign he’d understood. “They have no interest in politicking. With good reason; I find myself increasingly exhausted by the droll lobbying.” He shot Alec a glance, a twinkle in his eye. “There’s only one kind of ass-kissing I enjoy, after all.”

Alec choked a little, sputtering out a laugh and fighting a blush. He hoped the cold was enough to disguise his flushed cheeks. He was trying to concentrate, and Magnus’ method to catch Alec off-guard had worn down his defenses embarrassingly effectively. With intent, Alec turned back to the wall, where a doorway was being revealed behind the falling bricks. It was tall and narrow, with a brass knocker at its center, where the first brick had loosed itself from, and Alec chose to stare at that instead of Magnus’ ass.

“But,” Magnus continued innocently. “I do have a standing contract with them, to update them with the happenings of the world and to assist if they need it.”

“You said something about a bargain,” said Alec. “Is your contract part of that?”

Magnus shot him a sly grin. “In part,” he answered. “I told you this warlock is especially agoraphobic, right?” and Alec nodded. “There’s a reason they spent five _hundred_ years in the Labyrinth,” Magnus sniffed. “They don’t like going out when they can help it, and with the services of the High Warlock at their disposal, they can _definitely_ help it.”

“So we’re…. what? Running errands?”

Magnus laughed. “Probably of a more magical, less violent sort than you’re used to, Alexander.”

Alec kicked some of the bricks away from the base of the door, revealing a little mail slot. It was oddly charming for how useless it is, and he chuckled, surprised. Finally, when the door was entirely revealed, Magnus used the brass knocker and a loud reverberating echo sounded from past it. “I hope it’s heated inside,” Alec said absently, half to hear Magnus’ ensuing laugh and half because it was true. The door swung open, they stepped inside, and Alec’s mind flipped over.

Everything was upside-down. He didn’t so much look at Magnus as felt his presence, the warmth of him, even as they stood next to each other without touching, staring in front of them. It was indeed heated inside, but that was the last of Alec’s concerns.

“Magnus,” he said, his voice level through sheer will. His fingers itched toward his stele, his bow, glamoured but present. “What the fuck.”

Magnus shook himself after a moment. “Ah, um,” he started, uncertain and a little sheepish. “They are… a bit funny.”

The ceiling, at least as Alec stood, was furnished like a living room complete with floor lamps and two chaise lounges. Everything was upside-down, like the bookshelves filled with bottles and knick-knacks, and antique-looking side-tables. The ground where he and Magnus stood was actually the ceiling of the room, it was apparent, as sparse as it was. The room was simply inverted, including Alec noticed after a moment, the gravity on the ceiling-floor above them; drapes along one of the walls were hanging upward, unaffected by what was keeping Alec’s feet on the floor. Floor-ceiling, that was.

“You mean crazy,” Alec sighed, and took a tentative step forward. When he didn’t go flying toward the ceiling-floor, pulled by the inverted gravity of the space, he counted it as a win. Magnus followed him, observing the room with curiosity.

“They’re not crazy,” argued Magnus. “You Shadowhunters have no appreciation for the fantastical magicks of this world. The Warlock Three are simply… out of alignment with the world.”

“Precisely!” a voice boomed from another room. The door swung open, and there on the ceiling, plodding steadily past the sofa above them, was a three-headed man. One of the heads was smiling, but another was scowling down at them. The third, Alec could only see the back of. “Spinning the way the mundane world does is rather…,” the grumpy one shook his head in disgust, making a faint “Ugh!” noise.

“Hello, Warlock Three,” Magnus greeted with a small wave, and got an enthusiastic “Magnus!” in return. Alec blinked. When Magnus had suggested they visit a crotchety old warlock who hadn’t stepped outside in three centuries, this wasn’t what he expected. Especially after the rat king security. “We’ve come to ask your help.”

The Warlock Three laughed, two of the three heads. The third looked gleeful, but not innocently so. “And who might this ‘we’ be?”

“Myself, and Alec,” Magnus answered, offering no last name. This, too, Magnus had told him about: many warlocks went by only a single name, and the older ones didn’t blink at a lack of full introduction. It was safer this way, but being in territory where stealth was a necessity set Alec on edge regardless.

“Alec,” the Warlock Three echoed. They eyed him up-and-down, and Alec was hit with the uncomfortable sensation of someone staring right into his soul. “And what help do you seek, Magnus-and-Alec?”

Magnus looked at the Warlock Three, then Alec, and between the three of them. With a flick of his wrist and dull roar of magic, he propelled them upward, until they flipped upside-down and joined the Warlock Three and furniture on the living room floor. It was disorienting at first, but gravity was gravity, and Alec had a strong stomach for acrobatics.

This way up, he could see the Warlock Three was taller than expected, with shoulders narrow and drawn with tightly held control. They gave the impression of someone squirrelly but observant, studiously tracking the world that traveled around them.

Eyeing the situation dubiously, but still appearing at ease in a way Alec was decidedly not, Magnus launched determinedly into an explanation: “We’re searching for Iris Rouse, but it appears her extensive travels have muddled the road quite a bit. We don’t have anything of hers to track from, and you’re the only one I know with knowledge of abstract tracking.”

One of the heads raised an eyebrow curiously. “Iris…? Is she not in New York any longer? But, I do seem to recall her clearly, at just this past warlock soirée.”

“Yes,” Magnus said. “But it’s been five years since then.”

The Warlock Three blinked before frowning, then peered around the room, as if somehow gauging the time. There weren’t even windows. “Hm,” they said. “Has it truly been? It felt to me like just yesterday.”

Magnus voice was wry, the slightest tinge of amused. “I would assume so, given how long you’ve lived.”

“Hm,” the Warlock Three said. “Very well. And how shall my knowledge assist you in this?”

“The charm for abstract tracking: what it requires, and how to create it. It’s complicated, I know, but that’s the extent of it. I don’t know what the spell entails.”

The Warlock Three regarded them studiously, then one of the heads nodded. “I can indeed give you a copy of the charm’s scroll.” Then another piped up. “But will you not ask my fee?” the Warlock Three asked.

Alec remembered suddenly Magnus’ answer to the rat king—that he’d brought something of value to be bartered, or offered in trade if desired. Magnus would probably try to offer their standing contract in payment, but surely that wouldn’t be enough to offset a favor provided outside their terms. The thought sent a trepidatious shiver down Alec’s spine.

And sure enough: “The terms of our contract are comprehensive enough to repay this favor, yes?” said Magnus. It was a question, but not unassuming in the way he phrased it, more confirmation than anything.

But the Warlock Three didn’t bite. “Surely, you’d agree the information I offer stands outside our usual transactions? You have in your possession a text I’d very much enjoy perusing. It’s been rather squirreled away for centuries, and I could never find it in the Labyrinth. A Gray Book. You _do_ have one?”

Alec froze, every muscle in his body on high-alarm. But it was Magnus who spoke. “Most Nephilim runes cannot be learned by a Downworlder. The Book would be useless to you. Unreadable.”

“But _you_ ,” the more excitable of the heads spoke, and the Warlock Three gestured at Magnus, taking a step closer. “Magnus, as child of Asmodeus, you are in the delightfully unique position to combine angelic runes with Chthonian. And that is my price, for this favor you seek. An alchemy of sorts, of your own abilities and these abstract magicks you require.”

“An alchemy of abstract magic?” Magnus repeated, his voice soft and thoughtful.

But Alec couldn't let him promise a Gray Book without first knowing what the Warlock Three intended to use it for. Bastardizing runes with Chthonian, for what? “Which runes are you interested in? What purpose will they have?”

If Magnus’ glamour of his runes and magic had worked before, the gambit was surely up. There was no way they didn’t know Alec was a Shadowhunter now. Magnus shot him a look, not unlike when he’d told Alec to keep his mouth shut in front of the rat king. It was a risk to speak, sure, but he knew better than even Magnus the powers, the potential horrors, the runes could welcome. This was important enough.

“It’s simple, truly,” the Three replied, without even blinking an eye. So they’d known then, and done nothing about it. Alec settled, just the slightest amount. “I believe there exists a rune for focusing?”

Hesitantly, Alec nodded.

“Then it is settled!” exclaimed the Warlock Three, clapping their hands together. “That shall be the rune I require. My heads get in each others’ ways a distractingly often amount, you see. It would be helpful to my scholarship, to be able to focus, together and apart.”

That… sounded surprisingly doable. “If it’s only one rune, you don’t need the entire Gray Book,” said Magnus. “We know the rune.”

The grumpier head huffed. “We weren’t led to believe your Nephilim Alec would reveal himself to us. It was the easier route, to avoid a nasty confrontation.” Another head piped up: “Yes, we are not much of a fighter.”

Alec swallowed around the sour note in his mouth, the thought that this centuries-old warlock feared surprising him into a fight by revealing the extent of his knowledge, that Nephilim had been so quick to judge the unknown that he was nearly universally regarded with some measure of caution or disdain in the Downworld. It was deserved, but no less frustrating, and ultimately, a reflection that needed to be tabled for later.

“Then, the information we require? The ingredients needed for an abstract tracking spell?” Magnus piped up.

With a wave, the Warlock Three summoned a paper into their hands. “Here we are.” He read off it: “A single plucked crystal from an azurite geode, the hair of a unicorn, gently taken, the heartstring of a creature of demonic blood, and a leaf from a nursing mandrake.”

“That’s a bit much for a tracking spell, isn’t it?” Alec asked, unable to mask his surprise.

The Warlock Three raised their eyebrows. “Do remember that the charm you ask for is one that can track anyone, anything, without a worldly possession of the target. I assure you, it is the only way I know of.”

“It’s daunting, but not impossible,” commented Magnus, his mouth downturned in thought. “And when we collected everything?”

“You will wrap the crystal in the leaf, tie it with the hair and heartstring, then picture your target’s name or likeness—whatever you know of her—while the charm is in your palm. That is all the charm requires,” the Warlock Three replied. They rolled the page and held it out to Magnus but didn’t let go when he reached for it. “The rune,” they reminded.

Magnus turned to Alec, who nodded. These ingredients sounded impossible, and Alec felt a keen sense of disappointment at that fact, but this undertaking was always a long-shot anyway. Maybe there was a part of him that was relieved, that it was over, that he had proven himself by trying, and didn’t need to go further.

The only thing he needed to do for this to be over was draw a focus rune, a simple action, and one Alec had performed thousands of times. The rune itself was only effective internally, and therefore harmless to others. They owed the Warlock Three this much, at least.

Pulling his stele, Alec drew _focus_ in the air and pushed it toward the nearby wall. It lit up before embedding into the wood. Magnus stepped forward then, and ran a hand over the rune until it glew a faint reddish-blue. He carved a single line along its right side, and Alec felt it the moment the rune fell from angelic grace. It drew a shiver of discomfort, but only momentarily. Within moments, the deed was done, the debt repaid. The Warlock Three handed the scroll to Magnus, who tucked it away in his jacket.

Magnus patted his jacket securely and nodded, satisfied, before gesturing to the wall. “You can read this?” he asked, and the Warlock Three nodded, looking more than satisfied. “Then we’re done here. We appreciate your help.”

“And I, yours,” the Warlock Three replied, and even the disgruntled frown of one of the heads seemed to be content for now.  

Alec expected a smile from Magnus then, a cheerful farewell. He was used to the quirk of Magnus’ lips after a job well done, when he was particularly satisfied with getting his way, but there was none of that careless and free openness on display. This was Magnus at business in a way Alec had never seen him, first because Magnus viewed him as too weak to be a threat, and then because, well, it was hard to sleep with someone for months and not be the slightest bit fond.

With a formal nod, Magnus brought his magic to the surface and flipped Alec and himself back to the upside-down floor-ceiling of the room. And with a last look upward, to where the Warlock Three were investigating the rune imprint, Alec allowed himself to be pulled into the frigid alleyway, hit immediately with a gust of cold air against his face.

“Everything needed for this charm is rare, Magnus,” he said, like Magnus didn’t already know. “How are we going to find it? Get it all?” He tucked himself deeper into his scarf and stuck his hands in his pockets sullenly. “It’s not worth it.”

Magnus looked at him hotly. “Of course it’s worth it. And we will find them. I haven’t been on this planet for centuries just to let a few rare ingredients get the best of me. I already know where to find the geode.”

“Are you sure?” asked Alec, but Magnus surely could tell it was just for the sake of distance. He trusted Magnus, and didn’t want a lecture on this. “I just—. I don’t know. This’ll take a long time.” It wouldn’t be fair to expect Magnus to stick around for that long.  

Magnus stopped, right there on the sidewalk, and pulled them only slightly away from foot traffic. Catching Alec’s hands between his own, he said, “If you want to do this, you have to be sure, Alexander.” Alec exhaled heavily, most of the air caught in his scarf and warming his chin. “I couldn't—won’t—do this without you. You have to be all in.”

“I am,” said Alec. He let himself focus on the comfort of Magnus’ grip, even through the gloves he was wearing. He was all in, or he would be, if he could. With another heaving, bracing sigh, Alec nodded, then nodded again. “Okay. Okay, Magnus, let’s try for it.” A pause, then, “And thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” Magnus said. And then squeezed Alec’s hands tightly. “Now let’s get back to the loft. Your warmth rune won’t do anything for dry cold-air skin.”

Alec allowed himself to be pulled back into the flow of pedestrians, feeling his nervousness bubbling in his gut, but his shoulders settled in a way long forgotten. “So I can thank you properly?” he smiled, and glowed with smugness when Magnus shot him an appraising, appreciative look.

He huddled close to Magnus again, this time just because. He was warm, but Magnus made him warmer.

* * *

It was easy to ignore the long to-do list of their endevour when Alec was solidly in Magnus’ bed, being taken apart by deft hands and a defter tongue. Not enough time had passed since the last time they’d fucked for Alec to have missed this, but these days every touch between them seemed to spark a thought of love, and affection, and his heart.

But tonight, with Magnus cradled between his thighs, mouth sucking and kissing the head of his cock and hand pumping the rest of it, Alec’s missing heart was the last thing on his mind. He reached down and cradled Magnus’ head with his hands, carding through what hair had come loose from Magnus’ styling, and with a small shiver, Magnus pressed back into the touch.

Alec groaned when Magnus rolled his balls in his palm, feeling his cock twitch in a valiant attempt to get even harder. If this went on, it would be over too soon. And he wanted to get his hand on Magnus’ dick so badly, to feel it fatten up under his hand, the familiar thickness of it.

“Magnus,” he gasped, and tugged at his hair until Magnus looked up curiously. “Come up here. I want—,” he pulled Magnus to him until they could kiss, and Alec moaned when Magnus snuck his tongue into his mouth, sucking at Alec’s bottom lip.

He could feel the hot skin of Magnus’ cock near his, grinding softly in the vee of his hips. When Magnus crushed his chest to Alec’s, the grooves of his abs were a teasing pressure against his own cock. Alec’s hips jerked with it, almost dislodging Magnus. Magnus laughed, but the movement of his stomach only contributed to Alec’s torture. The skin was wet with Magnus’ saliva and Alec’s pre-come, but the pressure was too little still.

Alec dropped his hands down to grab Magnus’ ass, then roamed over his thighs. Magnus’ body was built of muscle—the effective, strong kind that made Alec shiver with desire—and feeling them clench under his ministrations was one of Alec’s greatest pleasures in life.

“Just like this,” he begged, rolling his hips against Magnus. He lined them up so that Magnus’ and his cocks were aligned, so they could grind against each other. At least they’d gotten their clothes off today; Magnus had to magically clean Alec’s pants the last time. The thought of it sent an extra flush down Alec’s chest.

Magnus loved when Alec looked like this, debauched and red along his cheeks, neck, and under the hair on his chest. And Alec could see it now, the way Magnus leaned back to gaze down at him, pure smugness written all over. He pulled Alec’s hands off him and then inched backward a little bit, so he was straddling Alec’s thighs instead of his hips, and palmed his own cock.

Alec threw his head back. “You are _evil_ ,” he groaned. His hands ran over Magnus’ knees, the lower part of his thighs. When he squeezed, a little hard just to be mean, Magnus only stroked himself quicker.

“I’m giving you a free show,” countered Magnus. “Be grateful.”

And god, the thought of watching Magnus bring himself off sent a fresh spike of arousal through Alec, straight to his dick. But right now, Alec didn’t want to be grateful; he wanted to touch. He wanted Magnus’ perfect, thick cock in his mouth, or filling him deep, or sliding between his thighs that one time in the shower.

They could table Magnus’ plan for next time, he thought, and then argued: “No, Magnus, come on, I want you to,” he tugged ineffectively. “Together, come on.”

Magnus laughed fondly and acquiesced. He leaned back down, allowing Alec to direct him into a kiss much gentler than the rocking circles their hips were making together. Alec palmed over Magnus’ ass and squeezed the cheeks, guiding Magnus into a steady, hot rhythm.

They moved against each other, sliding wetly, sticky and sweaty, and breathing against each other’s mouths. Alec’s fingers roamed, dipping into the crease of Magnus’ ass. When he toyed with the pucker of Magnus’ hole, Magnus bit out a harsh curse, rolling back into the touch.

He couldn’t push inside without lube, which was uselessly tucked away in the bedside table, which seemed miles away at this point. But Alec knew that Magnus adored the tease of it, the press of his finger against his hole, like Alec could, maybe _would_ , dip a fingertip inside. He’d always liked it on just the right side of too dry.

And feeling especially daring, it was almost instinct to do exactly that. At the harder press of Alec’s finger against his hole, a broken moan tumbled out of Magnus’ mouth, and his eyes clenched shut. It took just a minute after that, for Magnus’ body to work between Alec’s under him and Alec’s finger slightly inside him, tugging at his rim.

When Magnus came, his entire body went tight, and he bit down on Alec’s lip, hard and then gentler as he grinded through it. The come splattered hotly in stripes along Alec’s torso, adding to how hot and swollen he felt.

He carefully pulled out of Magnus and clutched at his shoulders instead, trying to gain leverage to get himself off. But it wasn’t enough without Magnus moving against him. He needed more.

Alec felt molten in his center, his insides heated like Magnus was coming in him. His groin was a hot spot begging to be touched, and Alec couldn’t hold back his trembling. He needed, so badly, that his dick hurt with it. “Magnus, come on,” he pleaded.  

Magnus breathed a “Wow” against his lips, pressing his lips to Alec’s cheek. “Look at you,” he purred. Alec moaned, flushed down to his toes, curling with pleasure.

And finally, _finally_ Magnus snaked a hand down and rubbed over Alec’s cock, smearing the pre-come over the head. Alec’s head snapped up as his body jerked, almost taking Magnus’ nose out. But he landed his forehead on Magnus’ shoulder and mouthed brainlessly at the skin there, biting and sucking.

Alec clutched at Magnus’ back, probably digging his nails in a little too hard, but when Magnus thumbed over his cock’s slit, there was no way his fingers would unclench. He had motor control over exactly zero percent of his body.

Heat pulsed through Alec, as if through an endless circuit between himself and Magnus. The smooth expanse of Magnus’ thighs, his torso and chest, seemed to glow in the aftermath of his climax, and Alec’s body was full steam ahead to join him.

The rhythm Magnus established was slow and unhurried, but Alec was so close anyway. Just a little more, and his balls would draw up tighter. He could feel himself at the top of the cliff already, reaching there, just a little more. “More,” he heard himself chanting. Alec’s eyes were clenched shut. He leaned into the touches, leaned into the rising tide of pleasure. And finally, Alec came, his vision whiting out with the force of it. It lasted almost too long, worked over by Magnus’ gentle hand, and then Alec crashed back down, melting into the bed.

“God,” he said, when he’d caught his breath. Magnus slid off him and onto his back, relaxing bonelessly by Alec’s side.

“Yeah,” Magnus agreed. After a moment, he began laughing quietly, happily, energized after sex like he always was. Alec was the opposite though, and even as he smiled in Magnus’ direction, his eyelids were growing heavy, dragging him down to sleep.

“Wake me up at seven tomorrow,” he managed, and he felt Magnus comb his sweaty, gross hair off his forehead.

“Goodnight, Alexander,” Magnus whispered, and Alec mumbled something of the sort back before succumbing entirely.

The morning came bright and too early, and Alec stumbled out of bed to go through his morning routine. He and Magnus were both busy today, so there were no mischievous, teasing touches as they passed each other in the bathroom, or when Magnus stripped to change into his suit.

It was fast and efficient. Because for one, he really should’ve told Magnus six-thirty instead of seven. At almost seven-fifteen on the dot, Alec’s phone rang, and he glanced over the text ordering him back to the Institute.

“I have to go,” he called, pulling on his jacket. Magnus was in the kitchen, pouring himself a cup of coffee. Alec wished he had time to grab his own, but the Institute’s own would have to do today.

“Be safe!” Magnus said, lifting his coffee mug in salute and smiling at Alec from across the room.

His smile was wide enough that Alec was sorely tempted to just ignore his phone, whatever orders came through, and stride into the kitchen to press Magnus against the wall, to kiss him hard. But he pulled himself away, forcing his feet to the door.

“Okay, see you on Friday then?” Alec stood in the doorway and turned just his head back, because anything more would lead to another round, he knew it. He was sure Magnus only needed a little convincing.

“Yes,” Magnus said, his delight clear. “It’s a date.” Alec stopped short, one foot out the door. A date? Was it? Something of his sudden panic must have showed on his face, because Magnus’ expression softened. “Or not, if you don’t want it to be,” he offered, like it’d be okay either way. The thing was about Magnus though, Alec had faith it would be.

It was that thought that drove him to unstick his tongue and shake his head. “No,” he said, and clarified: “A date. Um, yeah, it’s a date.”

Magnus beamed at him, and echoed. “A date. I’ll see you Friday.”

“Yeah. Friday.” Alec nodded, still reeling, and managed a “Bye, Magnus,” before slipping out.

The door closed behind him with a click. He leaned back against it with a shaky exhale, his eyes wide. A date. He had a date with Magnus. It felt so large, the massiveness of this step, that it pushed the breath from his lungs. A growing amount of levity carried him down the elevator, back across the city, and through the Institute doors, high-flying, helium in the air around him.

* * *

Over the bond, Alec felt Jace coming from the other side of the Institute. Their connection sung with intent, curiosity, concern, and stubbornness, and Alec sighed as he swiped through the recent patrol reports on his tablet. He was trying to get work done, and who knew what Jace was stalking down the halls toward him for. Nothing good, probably, and more than likely something that Alec wouldn’t want to talk about.

The office door swung open without a knock. He didn’t even look up before greeting, “Hey, Jace.”

“Hey, Alec,” Jace said. With a small groan, Jace stretched his arms over his head and plopped down on the sofa, his legs thrown over one of the armrests. Alec didn’t bother asking why he was here; Jace never kept silent for long. Sure enough, within moments, he spoke, “How are things with Magnus, Alec?”

Alec paused in surprise. Seriously? Of all the things, Jace had to choose the one that Alec both most and least wanted to talk about. He looked up at Jace and found him quietly studying the ceiling of the office, but when Alec didn’t answer, Jace glanced over with an expression that prompted ‘go ahead.’

Jace had found out about his plans with Magnus after Alec had returned from the Warlock Three’s home. It’d been an innocent remark—“God, Alec, use your warmth rune next time, will you? My fingers felt frostbitten for hours there.”—but the story had come spilling out between Alec’s shifty avoidance and Jace’s hard-headed persistence.

He hadn’t said anything until now. But Jace sat here in Alec’s office, fiddling with his stele, turning it over in one hand in uneven rhythm, and waited for an answer.

“They’re good,” Alec said hesitantly. They were, as they always were with Magnus. Magnus wasn’t the problem—it was everything else, all the unknowns and moving pieces he couldn’t even see yet. It was the doubt and the regret hanging gloomily in the air.

“But?” Jace prompted.

Alec sighed and grimaced. The questions were on the tip of his tongue, but to speak them aloud felt like a betrayal of himself. To ask would be opening a door to realities Alec would prefer never knowing about. But Jace was his parabatai, and probably already had an idea of the thoughts bothering him. “Do you think that my love for our family comes through the parabatai bond? Can I only feel it because I’m connected to you?”

Jace sat up in one fluid movement. “What the fuck?”

Alec flinched, and Jace immediately looked chastised, but his anger didn’t fade. “No, Alec,” he bit out, his word snappish and hard. “You love our family because you love them, us. Not because of me. Not because you’re just feeling some… fucking residual leftovers.”

“You don’t know that,” snapped Alec.

Jace had no right to act so disdainful, not when he didn’t know anything about what Alec was going through. Valentine had taught Jace that it was a weakness to love, but after years in their family, where Jace’s slow-growing attachment was nurtured with kindness, he did it with the ease of a man who’d never seen war, and death. Alec didn’t have that luxury. His love wasn’t acceptable.

“Yeah, I do,” Jace said. “Think about it. Do you even _like_ Clary?”

Alec mind grinded to a halt. No, he realized. The answer was no, he did not like Clary. And Jace loved her, dearly, and Alec knew it, had felt that mixture of affection-lust-desire-protectiveness from Jace, but it had never been _his_ emotion. “Oh,” he said.

“Yeah,” Jace said, his smile victorious. “‘Oh.’”

Alec was reeling, but somehow, that ‘Oh’ enraged him. It might have been teasing, but Jace could get off his fucking high-horse. He felt vulnerable, and Jace’s ribbing coarsed against his raw, wide-open self. “Fuck off,” he snapped. “I don’t need that shit from you right now.”

Jace frowned, looking intent. “Alec, when are you going to get that you don’t love with your heart, or whatever you gave away to the witch. You love with your whole self. And we’re all proof of that. You love our family: me, Izzy, Max.”

“It’s metaphorical, Jace,” Alec snarled. “I didn’t rip my heart out and hand it to her.”

“Then explain how you can love your family—.”

“Jace! Stop.”

“No, you need to figure this out. Because I won’t accept you questioning whether or not you even love us.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Alec bit out. He needed time to think about this, to turn it over in his head until the edges were smooth and polished and rounded.

Jace pressed his lips together angrily. “You have to talk about it with someone.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Alec repeated, throwing enough fervor into the statement that Jace actually stopped trying to interrupt.

He huffed instead, and rolled his eyes. “You know what, fine. I’ll just wait here in silence until you’re ready to say _something_.”

Alec rolled his eyes right back. That was as unlikely as Jace’s infinite entitlement deflating. He felt childishly pleased with the ensuing silence, as he always did when he won an argument against Jace, and relished the grumpiness he felt over their bond.

Infuriated and sulky, Alec stared at the grain of his desk. There was no way he’d get any work done with Jace in the room, but he could pretend. _Tap_ , Alec heard, and then another. It was Jace, beating his stele against the table next to him periodically. The sound was soft, but jarring in the silence, and grated against Alec’s already fraught nerves.

The tapping of Jace’s stele on the table was the only sound in the room, but it was slower and less steady than Alec’s heartbeat in a way entirely unpleasant. The tap, tap, tapping was obnoxious and louder in his ears than it should’ve been, like the sound itself was brushing against every one of his senses. He grit his teeth in annoyance.

Focused on it, the tapping was the only thing he could hear, the roaring of it now more like a boom echoing through the room and his ears, cavorting in his brain, banging against the inside of his skull. Alec’s shoulders slowly rose in tension as he tried to stop himself from giving into temptation to either burrow away or throw a fucking knife at Jace’s hands.

His blood boiled again, and the tapping frazzled his edges until they were jagged, until Alec felt like a petulant cat, ready to hiss at an interloper in his space. But he wouldn’t let Jace win, not when Alec snapping was his exact goal.

Alec inhaled fully, his chest expanded wide, and breathed his aggravation in until it was a tight ball of anger in his throat. He held it there, choked on it and the thousand terrible, resentful things he wanted to scream at Jace in that moment, and then he bit his tongue and swallowed it all down.

The tapping stopped, but Alec swore his ears were ringing with it. “Jesus, Alec,” Jace groaned, thundering to his feet. He moved like in battle, from one spot to another in a movement Alec couldn’t track, one second glaring furiously from the sofa and the next on Alec’s side of the desk, leaning over him and cupping his face.“Stop repressing so fucking much. I can _feel_ it. You can’t live like this.”

Alec shook his head and leaned back, dislodging Jace’s hands but not pushing him away. Boxed in but unwilling to use force—too tired, too… whatever—, there was nothing to do but close his eyes and try to let the leather of his chair swallow him whole. He felt stretched out and spun out and spiralled, and even as he sat there, studiously ignoring Jace, Alec could feel his breathing try to pick up but immediately hit the wall of his tightened chest. His ears were ringing again, an echo of Jace’s tapping. Alec could’ve strangled him, if his fingers weren’t clenched so tight.

A sudden tug on his arm startled Alec, and Jace grunted in exasperation as he rolled up Alec’s sleeve forcefully and drew over his calm rune.

An immediate, shivery calm flooded through Alec, spreading from the top of his head and draining sharp agitation from his feet, like lifting a stopper from the bottom of a pool. Joke was on Jace, though; the calm rune did nothing to belay Alec’s anger, and he had calm rage down to an art form.

“Ow,” he said, letting irritation bleed into his voice, and rubbed at his arm. “That’s cheating. That whole thing was cheating. You can’t just dig in and read my emotions whenever you want to.”

“I don’t have to when you’re projecting so hard my head hurts,” said Jace. “You always do this. You just bury all your emotions until they spiral out of control, and then you panic because you never learned to handle it. It’s like a fucking, I don’t know, tornado in there.”

“‘In there,’” Alec repeated with a mean scoff. “The problem, Jace, is that there is nothing ‘in there.’” He blew out a disgusted breath, wishing for the hot bubbling of fury licking under his skin. Alec wanted to be angry in an explosive way, the way Jace had baited in vain. Now all his anger was severe and wicked-edged, and his voice was low. “Do you want me to say it? So that you don’t have to? So you don’t have to pretend to know me?”

“Shut up, Alec. Don’t try that shit with me.” Alec bit back a snarl, and Jace continued. “You’re allowed to love Magnus. You’re allowed to love whoever you want. Stop beating yourself up, or telling yourself that whatever you’re feeling isn’t real.”

“But what if it isn’t?” Alec blurted.

Jace sighed, a blustering exhale that seemed to carry all the battle out of him. “You can’t keep questioning yourself over this. What you and Magnus are doing is great. I want you to get your heart, or love, or whatever back. But you can still date the guy in the meantime.”

Alec pursed his lips, biting back an instinctive rejection. His anger had evaporated along with Jace’s, and he took a second to breathe, and think. Because the truth was: “We’re going on a date on Friday.”

“What?” Jace looked up, startled. Then his face slowly brightened with a disbelieving, relieved grin. “Yeah? A date?”

Alec couldn’t keep from smiling back, the barest twitch of his lips before he ducked his head and let it grow wide. “Yeah, a date.”

Jace appeared almost proud. Through their bond, Alec felt it: easy, unraveling relief, an endless satisfaction, and a fierce, honest delight.  

“Tell me how it goes, will you?” Jace said. That was the last he said on the subject. When Alec nodded, Jace shot him another proud, congratulatory look and plodded back to the sofa. He threw himself down on it face-down, and mumbled at Alec to wake him in an hour.

Alec basked in the contentment bleeding both ways through their bond and went back to his reports.

* * *

The town that Magnus portaled them to was small and quiet in what was almost loud compared to Brooklyn. It took Alec’s ears a moment to reorient themselves to the still streets. Around them, pedestrians ambled, ducking into the small shops occasionally, but no one was close enough to get in their way. It was like Alec and Magnus were in their own little world.

“Charming, isn’t it?” Magnus said, and Alec nodded.

The storefronts were small and decorated cutely, and as they walked along the block, he found himself mesmerized by the variety and sincerity of the knick-knacks. One shop sold homemade soaps, another specialized in olive oil, and another was a children’s book store. They passed more than one bakery, but Magnus pointed out that one was known for pies, and the other, cupcakes.

He had no clue how they turned a profit, with niches as specific as theirs, but perhaps they didn’t need to diversify, in this small town where people seemed to roam and buy what they didn’t need to.

“Oh my god, Magnus, look at those.” It was a shop for clocks, and the window display had their work lined up, various shapes and sizes, from a refurbished antique grandfather to a rack of watches. A few had their faces open, revealing the intricate array of gears and inner-workings.

Magnus’ eyebrow quirked up. “Would you like one?”

Alec shook his head. “No, it’s just interesting to look at. I don’t even use watches anyway.”

“Are you sure?” Magnus asked. Alec only laughed before pulling him onward down the sidewalk.

After a moment, Magnus’ hand in his was the focus of Alec’s attention, the warm press of his palm. Their interlocked hands swung idly between them as they walked down the street, Magnus pointing out some other small shops, a couple more hidden than others. It was a mix of mundane and not: an old lady’s scarf store, then a garden shop run by gnomes; a cobbler advertising free shoe shining, then a troll’s blacksmithy.

Finally, they arrived at an innocuous storefront, with a swinging sign in front that read “Geoffrey’s.” Magnus chuckled at the name. “The owner’s name is actually Jeffrey, spelled with a J, but he thought he was being clever with the store. Combined geode and Jeffrey, and well,” he gestured at the sign.

Alec couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s genius.” He pulled the door open and beckoned Magnus inside first. “Is he mundane?”

“Is he _mundane_?” a voice bellowed from above, sounding affronted, and Alec flinched instinctively. It was a large black-and-white bird perched on the rafters of the store, glaring down at them with beady eyes. “ _No_ , I’m not mundane, you fool.”

“Oh,” Alec hastened to say. “Sorry.”

“Alexander, meet Jeffrey, proprietor of this establishment. He’s a gemstone magpie, but is gracious enough to share with us, on occasion.” He waved at the bird. “Jeffrey, this is Alec. We’re here for an azurite geode.”

Jeffrey cawed balefully and seemed to frown, if his beak would have allowed it. “Well, I’ve got some somewhere in here, probably one of the drawers. It’s been awhile since someone’s come asking for azurite. Now quit bothering me. I have work to do, yaknow. Off you go on your hunt,” Jeffrey said. He ruffled his wings then hopped away, out of sight in the rafters. “Oh, and don’t take my stuff!”  

Alec finally looked around the store. It was small and seemed fit to accommodate only creatures that could fly. Boxes littered the floor, and trays of glimmering stones and rings were strewn around carelessly.

“This is some hoard,” Alec commented, ducking down to peer into a glass case containing rubies.

“Be grateful he’s not a dragon,” Magnus replied. The store did indeed look like a dragon’s stash of gold, but full of color and sparkle instead of a roaring, defensive creature ten times their size. “I once had to get a crystal from one of the lads up in the Rocky’s. Nearly killed myself doing it, too. That’s how I met Jeffrey, actually. He was there doing the same thing,” he laughed, “And then offered a much better, _easier_ solution.”

Alec laughed along, his curiosity and awe increasing. Every layer of Magnus he uncovered, every secret and story revealed to him, only made him want to know more. He straightened back up and looked around. “What are we looking for?”

“Azurite is blue. Very, very blue,” said Magnus. “If you see something of the sort, call me over, and I’ll check of any of the crystals are viable.”

They made their way into the shop carefully, Alec watching his feet more than any of the gemstones. The shop was small and filled with enough that it felt like being in a cave, mining for precious gems. Alec spotted what was probably a diamond on some poor woman’s stolen wedding ring.

In the crowded space, there wasn’t much room for people of Alec and Magnus’ size to move around each other. They brushed shoulders and hips when Alec squeezed past, drawing a soft smile from Magnus in his direction. Despite the warm air in here—warmer than even outside, but pleasantly so—Alec still found himself wanting to huddle close.

The idea that their personal bubbles had grown to accommodate each other made Alec merry. It was normal now for Alec to place a hand on Magnus’ arm when walking past him, or for Magnus to fix Alec’s collar if it was flipped. Alec was greedy for Magnus’ casual touches in a way that made them not casual at all. He was aware of them like a part of his body, like a sun he orbited around, and anticipated each one eagerly.

Childishly, he wished Magnus would just stay in one place instead of trekking around the shop. Maybe he couldn't take Magnus to bed right now, but there was only so long he could stand around cluelessly while Magnus did all the work. He’d at least like to be close, if he couldn't be of use.

“Stop,” laughed Magnus, when Alec leaned over his shoulder to peer at the stone in his hand. “You’re distracting me.”

Alec butted his head against Magnus’ playfully. “What if I want to distract you?”

“You Shadowhunters really _are_ restless when you have no mission,” sighed Magnus, his voice amused, like he was fondly speaking of a child’s antics. It filled Alec with a flush embarrassment, his cheeks hot, but also delight at the tease. He probably shouldn’t have liked it, the way Magnus poked and prodded at him to make Alec looser and less high-strung, but it elicited a shivery pleasure instead. Alec laughed quietly. Magnus made Alec looser in every way.

“You like it,” Alec proclaimed, and his grin grew sly when Magnus failed to refute him.

He felt obvious in his charmed accompaniment of Magnus’ single-track determination, but he didn’t want to stop, to pull back. He liked these trembling, soft feelings.

Finally, Magnus found a drawer of geodes, sparkling spectacularly in the light of the shop. They were beautiful, and of all colors: a deep black one that ate as much light as it reflected, a purple one that was clearly amethyst, and a pink one that Magnus said was pink amethyst. None were blue, but they were all captivating, and in an odd but familiar way, reminded Alec of Magnus.

“I can see why magpies want to collect these,” he said, smiling when Magnus giggled.

“Yes, they are wondrous to look at, aren’t they? Unfortunately, the smaller the crystal, the less useful it is to us.” He pulled open another drawer and made a soft _aha!_ sound. “Here we are. Azurite.”

Magnus had been telling the truth before. Azurite was probably the blue-est blue Alec had ever seen. It looked like the deep ocean crystallized. “Are the crystals big enough?”

Peering closely at the geode, Magnus tutted quietly. “Not quite for this one, but it’s certainly promising.” He picked up another, examined it closely, and grinned. “This will do amazingly. There’s a crystal in here large enough to break a couple teeth.”

Alec studied it too, and found that sure enough, there was a crystal the thickness of his pinky finger prominent within the geode. It was a deep, rich blue. “How do we pay for it?” he asked.

Magnus pulled an earring from one of his ears. It was his gold and ruby one, charmed with a small protection spell. “Jeffrey!” he called. “I’ll leave my payment on the counter. I trust that’ll be all.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jeffrey’s voice sounded from somewhere in the back of the store. “It better be good!”

Magnus nudged Alec toward the entrance, and Alec trekked back to the door, cautious again of the stones laying around scattered. He dropped his earring on one of the glass cases, and as they pushed the door open, spirited the azurite geode away, presumably to the loft.

Alec stepped outside and breathed in the fresh, clean air of the town. He felt a resounding satisfaction deep in his bones, and smiled helplessly. Magnus, when he looked at him, was wearing the same expression. With a warm hand, and warmer heart, Magnus reached for Alec’s hand.

“Now then,” he said. “Shall we continue this date at that clock shop?”

Alec ducked down and kissed Magnus softly, in thanks and in affection both. “How about the bakery?” he suggested, and Magnus leaned into him.

* * *

It had been two weeks since their first date, and Alec was spending more time than ever with Magnus. This morning, he found himself spending the morning on Magnus’ balcony, enjoying the cool air and rich sunlight.

But he was disquieted and worn, unable to stop thinking about Iris, and what could come next. He had revisited that lonely moment a thousand times over the last ten years, each time realizing with more and more certainty that he’d squandered something big and unknowable to the witch, to Iris.

For a moment, Alec sank into the empty spaces within him and let them ache. He crossed his arms on the balcony edge and pillowed his head on them, gazing out over the city. The blooming seed of want felt like spun sugar in his chest. He had never thought he’d reach a time when he wanted to protect the delicate desires he harbored instead of crushing them immediately. It felt both less and more dangerous than he expected.

“Doing okay?” he heard, and lifted his head to turn to Magnus.

Alec shrugged, not forcing himself to break the quiet of the afternoon with his sagging mood. “It’s nice weather out here,” he remarked.

Magnus smiled and joined him, throwing his arms over the ledge and leaning over it to gaze down the side of the building. “I admit it’s been a while since I’ve taken a day to simply relax.”

A spike of guilt shot through Alec, and his lips twisted downward. “Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t want to burden you with all… this,” he waved his hand in the air, gesturing to the general everything of their recent circumstance.

“It’s no burden,” Magnus said, gently but firmly. And at Alec’s disbelieving scoff, repeated, “It’s _not_ , Alexander. I am more than happy to do this for you. For anyone, truly, in your place. But for you specifically, I’ll admit even less hesitation.”

Alec sighed. “Are you sure it’s not too much? I feel like I’ve been here every day for the past month.”

“You probably have,” Magnus chuckled. “But, I’m certainly not complaining. Your company is payment enough.” He turned his head to leer, a teasing grin curving his mouth. Alec rolled his eyes, but felt his lips quirk upward as Magnus laughed, craning his neck dramatically and giving Alec a very deliberate once-over. “I’ve done worse things for worse sex,” he admitted.

The light-heartedness rubbed off, and Alec chuckled too, around the small giddiness floating in his chest. He thought he would love to have this, when everything was over. He wasn’t ready to nurture the seed within him, not yet at least. But Alec settled in that moment, as if stepping into a space in the air made for his shape. Whatever happened, it would be from his decision, following Magnus down a once-invisible path, and in place of his previous resignation came a small tremor of acceptance, instead.

“Take me to bed?” Alec said, quieting his amusement. Magnus’ gaze turned heated, but his smile didn’t disappear. It was easy, with Magnus, to maintain the comfort of friendship, laughter, and trust even with heavy lust in the air. Alec was grateful they’d come this far, that they shared this. That he had this, if only in the little ways he still could.

Nudging himself close enough to Alec to steal a kiss, Magnus pressed his lips to Alec’s jaw, just low enough that they brushed the underside, a tease to the sensitive skin of his neck. Alec shivered and leaned into it. “Let’s make this day even better, hm?” Magnus suggested.

Alec turned and kissed him on the lips, and the heat in Magnus’ half-lidded eyes when they pulled away was a tantalizing promise. Magnus usually kissed with an intensity that made Alec’s toes curl, always a kind of foreplay, a preview of what was to come, but when he kissed back now, it was gentle, like it had been only in the mornings.

He’d thought Magnus would be steady, always, a singular constant in this journey of supposed change, and he had been, more than anyone else. But he was also a dynamic point forcing Alec to adapt, and Alec was buoyant in the difference.

For the second time in as many minutes, Alec caught himself wondering where he’d be if he had never met Magnus.

* * *

It wasn’t often that he was deployed on missions anymore, but Alec still took pride in doing his job as a Shadowhunter warrior well and efficiently. He and Izzy were replacing a squadron run to the ground on patrol the previous day, and he was already feeling the toll of his rustiness.

The warehouse they were in was laid out one room at a time, each closed off from the next, and they’d been clearing each of the demons methodically. This was a suspected Circle holdout, and every room provided more evidence of it, from torn stele harnesses to empty bags of chips.

This was the third they’d killed demons in, and Alec’s eyes roamed the room, darting from one shadowed entranceway to the next. Which is why he was looking away, back at the door they came through originally, when he heard a loud, violent screech from behind him, the sound of metal crunching. He spun just in time to see Izzy in the next room, tugging at her whip effectively, before she stumbled out of sight.

His heart kicked into overdrive, and he sprinted into the other room without a thought, without a plan. Izzy was in there, and she was—

A burst of ash and ichor nearly blinded him the moment he stepped in, and Alec blinked it out of his face to the sight of Izzy poking at a long graze down her arm. “Is it bad?” he asked, trying to control the pace of his breathing. The relief was draining, adrenaline still coursing through him.

“I’m good, hermano,” she said, and drew an iratze close to the wound.

Alec fingered the string of his bow nervously, turning in a slow circle around the room, but it was clear of movement besides them. “Stick with me next time,” he said gruffly, disproportionately upset at her running off. She could handle herself better than most, but it would be safer together; there were very few circumstances where that wasn’t true, and he just wished the lesson would stick.

Isabelle smiled heartily, then turned on heel to ready herself at the next room’s doorway, Alec following a step behind. They could hear muffled sounds of claws and wings, the loud chittering of frenzied demons.

“I’ll take the airborne,” he said, and readied himself, pulling the arrow back until it was ready to shoot. He nodded to her, then with the hand holding his bow, stretched out three fingers and counted down: _two, one._

With a resounding slam, the door tore open under the force of Izzy’s kick, and they thundered through. Izzy dropped into a roll immediately, going low for cover behind boxes, while Alec straddled the wall to their right, aiming and firing, aiming and firing.

Three demons went down when Izzy swept her whip in a radius around her, the crack of it audible even over the sounds of their screeching. With the horde diminished, he spotted a pair of Circle members near the exit, one with a giant broadsword and the other a bow and arrow, like him.

“Fuck,” Alec muttered under his breath, and dove to the side when a demon swooped in from above. The world tilted as he hit the floor hard, jarring his shoulder in a way he registered as not-good. The shock of the impact reverberated through his arm, and when Alec pushed himself to his elbows, he found the right one weak and unsteady.

“Alec!” he heard Izzy call, and he scrambled up, craning his neck to check on her. She was wrestling with a demon double her size, but seemed to be holding her own.

He nocked another arrow and aimed at the demon circling above him, ready for another dive. It exploded in a shower of ash and guts, splattering on the floor in front of him, on him, where it sizzled on his jacket, and on his face, where it burned like acid. Alec wiped it off using his sleeve with a wince, then caught a movement in the corner of his eye: the Circle archer, aiming for Izzy.

Alec had an arrow flying before he even registered moving, heart thumping as he watched it hit its mark in the woman’s chest. His right elbow and shoulder felt split with pain. The wet thud of his arrow probably wasn’t audible over the clamor and shrieks of battle, but he swore he heard it anyway as the Circle member dropped.

The other one, the man with the broadsword, was missing from his partner’s side, and Alec’s gaze roved over the corners of the room to find him, the glint of his sword, anything, but the man was firmly hidden among the raucous movement of the room. He shot an arrow in the neck of the demon Izzy was struggling with, and moved semi-cautiously toward the main fray. The pavement was slippery under his boots, but his pace was steady and measured.

The air shivered behind him. Alec swore and heaved himself to the left, dropping into a painful roll that scraped his hands and rippled through his weak elbow. The broadsword banged against the ground less than a second later, vibrating through the concrete. He grit his teeth and tasted blood. His mouth was probably stained with it, but Alec spit what he couldn’t swallow and found his feet again.

His seraph blade’s bright light activated the moment he touched it, but even as he grasped the hilt with both hands, Alec knew it wouldn’t be enough. The man was large—larger than him and broader, too—and handled what should have been an unwieldy broadsword with comparable ease. He was slow, but not slow enough that Alec could overwhelm him.

He had barely a moment to think before the man swung again, horizontally this time and just as deadly. The air whistled with it, and Alec dodged backward before throwing himself at the man’s feet. He slammed into his knees, dislodging a foot enough that they toppled over.

The Circle member landed with a loud thud, and Alec scrambled up his body, knelt on his chest and pinned him down before the man regained his breath. He raised his seraph blade up and brought it down through the man’s palm, impaling it to the ground in one easy, wet movement. The man yelled, high and enraged, but he’d let go of his sword reflexively, and his struggling knocked it skittering to the side, out of reach.

Alec yanked his blade forcefully from the man’s hand and plunged it into the vulnerable flesh of his neck, which gave easily. Blood bubbled from the wound, coating his blade and the skin around it, and when Alec pulled back, the red spurted out in waves. The man’s throat gurgled and his body twitched violently for a few seconds before finally going still.

After two heaving breaths, Alec rolled off him, deactivating his blade and finding his bow strewn on the ground a few feet away. There were only two demons left in the room, and Izzy was easily dispatching one. With only one remaining, it was the perfect chance to extract a demon heart.

“Izzy,” he called. The last demon was charging at her, but turned immediately toward his voice. “Pin it down, I need its heart.”

She looked at him askance, but there was no time to argue before the demon was upon him. With a crack of her whip, Izzy immobilized its legs, effectively stopping any and all attacks. Alec pounced. He stomped on the lower body of the demon, crushing the pincer on its tail, and then knelt over it.

It seemed to take a long time for the demon to stop struggling, but Alec waited until he had a clear shot and then plunged his blade into its chest, just above the heart. It would be difficult to carve out the demon’s heart without killing and disintegrating it on accident, but he steeled his hand and ignored the loud protests of his entire arm.

The demon shrieked and roared, its voice high-pitched and ear-splitting. Alec winced as he worked, dragging his blade around the shape of the heart. His body felt like one big bruise, and without the cacophony of fighting, it seemed to shriek in tune with the demon. He pulled the armored exoskeleton off the demon with a shaking hand, failing to avoid the eruption of ichor from the wide open wound, and cursing when it burned the cuts on his palm.

“What are you doing, Alec?” Izzy demanded, and Alec ignored her, running his tongue over the split in his bottom lip, and tasting the iron tang of his own blood. She was just as beat up as he was, and he wanted them to heal and get out of here as soon as possible.

Alec looked at the hole in the demon’s chest, at the heart he could see beating unsteadily. He exhaled sharply, but his hands couldn’t get burned much worse than they already were. With a bracing breath, Alec plunged his hand into the hole, gasping when acidic burning crawled up his arm, over his wrist. He grasped at the heart, felt it slide under his fingers, felt the ichor biting under his nails, before finally getting a good grip around it and yanking, hard.

He fell backward with the force of it, off the demon, which disintegrated into nonexistence immediately. The heart lay in his palm still, and Alec dropped it onto the ground before furiously wiping his hands on his jeans. It wasn’t enough—the pain stampeded up his forearm.

“Fuck,” he gasped. Izzy was there in seconds, her hands hovering but smartly, not touching.

“Why the fuck did you do that, Alec?” she hissed furiously. Alec’s mouth tasted like iron and bile, and his body was hot with agony. He flailed his hand to the side and she jumped back to let him take his jacket off.

Despite pursed, angry lips, Izzy drew three iratzes on his arm. As he watched blankly, his mind still figuring around the pain, she carefully held his jacket by a clean section and cursorily wiped his hands down with the inner lining. The lessening of burning, while not complete, brought immeasurable relief.    

“Explain, Alec,” she demanded again. Wryly, Alec thought about gathering his whole family and informing them all at once. It would be easier than what felt like constant interrogation.

When he could, he took the jacket from her and cleaned the ichor off with more care. He wrapped the heart in his jacket, tied the sleeves together and rose unsteadily to his feet. Alec rolled his shoulders, testing for any lingering discomfort; the iratzes had done their job.

“Draw your runes,” he ordered, but made sure to keep his voice gentle. “I’ll tell you on the way.”

Izzy looked at him with sharp, piercing eyes. She was growing up, he realized with a jolt, and was becoming more similar to their mother, maybe even himself, than he’d been aware. But she acquiesced with a quiet, disappointed sigh, and some of the tension she was carrying disappeared along with her wounds.

They had a long but manageable walk, and Alec did as he said he would; Izzy had known about his deal with Iris, but he filled her in on the solution that Magnus had found, the work they’d done so far.

She looked dubious at best at his reasoning, mouth twisted into a skeptical frown. “But, doesn’t the desire to love someone mean you already do?” she asked.

Alec shook his head. He’d thought about it, but it wasn’t the same. “It would be like a blind man wanting to see, or something of the sort. The ability to love is just… missing, in me.”

“I don’t believe it,” she sighed. And when he opened his mouth to argue, she cut him a look. “I know, okay? I know you sold your heart to a warlock, I know that you haven’t felt anything for anyone since. But if Magnus is enough to get you to change your mind about what you want, isn’t that enough?”

“It’s not enough to just want to be good to someone,” he said. “Love isn’t enough for a relationship to work. And wanting to love someone isn’t the same as actually loving them.” He shook his head and shrugged, then beckoned at the Institute when they turned a corner. “We can’t talk about this now anyway.”

They came up on the Institute’s front doors and trudged up the stone stairs tiredly. The guards outside took one look at them and opened the external doors to the quarantine unit, but weren’t smooth enough to hide their wide-eyed surprise. Alec chuffed out a satisfied laugh under his breath. It wasn’t every day their Institute Head and Weapons Master returned from an excursion dripping in ichor and splattered with blood, but they adapted to it in stride.

“We’ll finish this conversation later,” Izzy threatened. He didn’t know what there was to talk about, really, other than just informing her about his whereabouts. He’d promise to tell her where he was, so he wouldn’t be in any danger, and that would be that.

Alec stripped carefully in the quarantine unit, making sure to keep ichor off his skin, and then let the purifying agent and hot water wash away any lasting remains. It felt better than it ever had, like the tenseness of his muscles were draining, too. He cleaned off the demon heart, too, then tucked it into the pocket of the hoodie someone had left out for him.

It wasn’t long before Alec was dragging himself down the hall to his office, sapped of energy and ready to collapse. He nearly groaned when Isabelle intercepted him.

“Can’t we do this tomorrow?” he begged. “Or never?”

Izzy’s face was bare of makeup, her hair was wet and hanging limply, and she was dressed in similar sweats as him. In that moment, she looked like no one more than his concerned little sister, and Alec loved her dearly for her nosiness, even if sometimes begrudgingly.

“Maybe I’m wrong,” she started. “But I don’t think so, because I know you. But it isn’t fair to Magnus for you to date him—or to go on dates with him, whichever—and keep saying you don’t love him. You can’t keep treating him that way.”

Alec felt clobbered by betrayal, his breath caught and struck from his body. “I’m _trying_ ,” he said, and tried to keep his voice from wavering. “It’s not my fault that I can’t—. Look, I’m not treating anyone badly. I—. Why else would I be doing this, if it wasn’t about having a chance with him?”

Izzy groaned, despairing. “You have a chance already, Alec. That’s why he’s doing this with you. All these times you’ve gone out together, you don’t consider that enough? It’s more than a chance. You’re already dating him, and you’re not acting like it. You’re holding yourself back, I can tell. And maybe he’s not telling you, but that kind of thing hurts.”

“It’s not enough if I don’t love him,” Alec bit out, his exhaustion making him snappish.

“Have you _asked_ him that? Have you asked him what’s enough, if this is enough?”

Alec swallowed with an audible click, feeling his exhaustion more keenly than even before. He ran a hand over the demon heart in his pocket, but it brought no reassurance. “Fine,” he relented. “I’ll talk to him. But I can’t do this today, anymore. I need to file the report from today, and then sleep.” He shot her a look. “You do, too, Izzy.”

She sighed. “Yeah, got it, big brother. I just want you to be happy, y’know?”

And there was no way Alec couldn’t smile at that. “Yeah, I know. Thanks, Izzy.”

“Anytime, Alec. Really, I mean it.” She nudged him on the arm, a light, nearly impactless punch of affection. “Goodnight.”

“G’night,” he said, and finally made his way to his office door, unlocking and opening it smoothly despite his shaky fingers.

“Oh, and Alec?” Izzy called. He turned back toward her, and she gave him a smile that was somehow gentle and stern. “Tell someone where you’re going when you’re going out, okay? It could be dangerous.”

He managed a nod, along with an apologetic smile, then slid into his office. The door clicked shut behind him, and Alec was cast into silence for the first time in hours. It slid over him like the water of the quarantine unit, calming and soothing both.

But disquiet slowly replaced the stillness. Alec sagged into his seat, mulling over what Izzy had said. Was he actually being bad to Magnus? He didn’t mean to pull back every time the distance shrunk too much, but he couldn’t help but shy away from the foreign tremors of change. The distance helped, at the end of the day, to keep Alec from falling into depths he’d never be able to crawl from. If this questing with Magnus turned out fruitless, he didn’t want to be at rock bottom already.

But he was willing to admit that Magnus was much better to him than he was in return, and the thought left a bitter tinge on his tongue. Before, he’d swallowed the fleeting glimpses of hurt he’d spotted on Magnus’ face, convincing himself it was a necessary evil. But Alec wasn’t so sure anymore.

Would it really be so bad, to be all in? He’d promised Magnus he would be, and then taken pains to do the exact opposite. But the strain of staying away was almost too much to bear now. Alec wanted Magnus’ edges to meet his own, to smooth out what was jagged and sharp. He wanted to be worn down with kindness.

Izzy was right. It was time to stop holding himself back from someone who made him happy, and who he made happy in turn.

Pulling out his phone, Alec flipped to his messages with Magnus. The last one was a picture of a stray cat Magnus sent, followed by a couple of cat-heart-eye emojis. Alec had been busy, and had only sent a heart emoji in response.

Maybe he _was_ bad at this.

To Magnus: _sry i’m so bad at this_ , he typed out, then clicked send without allowing himself to think too hard.

From Magnus: _At texting?_

Alec took a breath. It was an easy out, offered on a silver platter. The desire to take it was overwhelming, but he sent instead: To Magnus: _dating_

The bubbles indicating Magnus texting appeared, then disappeared, then appeared for longer before blinking out again. Alec waited, his breath held, but Magnus’ text didn’t come. Instead, his screen flashed with an incoming call. With a shaky finger, Alec clicked accept.

“You’re doing fine, Alexander,” was the first thing Magnus said. Alec felt a small thrill shoot through him and when he began to smile, he found he already was.

“Oh, um, thanks,” he laughed. Because he wanted to, even if he hadn’t already. He vowed to himself to dedicate more time for Magnus outside their escapades. “I’ll do better, from now on. I _am_ all in.” He didn’t explain, and after a moment, felt the awkwardness of silence settle over their conversation. Alec nearly groaned; his brain wasn’t firing on all cylinders, and he’d idiotically said something so revealing. But Magnus, with his infinite wisdom, erased all measure of uneasiness immediately.

“I’m glad, Alexander. That makes me happy. Might I ask what brought this on?”

Alec smiled into his phone. Happy. He made Magnus happy. He’d known, but to hear it out loud brought a blush to his cheeks. “I was talking to Izzy. She told me to recognize a good thing when I had it.”

Magnus’ voice was warm, warm, warm when he laughed and responded. “A wise girl. You should listen to her.”

“Yeah,” Alec agreed. He cleared his throat, suddenly hoarse, suddenly welling with emotion. “I am. I will.”

Another wave of silence flowed over them, this time soft and kindly. Finally, like a gentle nudge forward, Magnus said: _“_ On a related note, I’ve been meaning to give you a call. Wasn’t sure if you were free. I’ve figured out how to get our hands on unicorn hair.”

“Oh,” said Alec, surprised. Last Magnus had updated him, he’d only said he’d ask Catarina about it. “Yeah?”

“Yes,” Magnus confirmed, enlivened. “Catarina happens to know someone who knows a vampire, Adriana, who helps breed and raise unicorns.”

Alec paused. “Is that… allowed?” he asked, incredulous.

He could nearly hear Magnus shrug. “Well, I assume the unicorns asked her to, or I doubt she’d be able. The population has been dwindling these days, sadly. It’s good they have someone to help out with the young.”

“I—,” Alec began, then stopped. There was so much mind-boggling in that he didn’t even know where to start. “And she’s a vampire?” he landed on.

Magnus laughed. “Mm, yes, she’s a good fit according to Cat. Unicorns prefer the dark—I don’t know if you knew that, but they hide away out of preference, not necessity—and of course, so does Adriana. Plus, they share a certain dislike of werewolves, so.”

“Ah,” said Alec, because sure, that explained everything. “So, you’re going to just ask her for a unicorn hair?”

“That’s the plan,” Magnus said breezily. “But we’ll have to catch her when she’s off the ranch—she moves the location every so often, and Cat only knew that she was in Malaysia seven years ago.”

Alec had been in more than his fair share of bleeder dens, enough that he was honestly more wary of vampires than of warlocks. But Magnus had never given him reason to doubt his safety. “Alright, so what do we need to do?” he asked. As long as it didn’t involve Camille, he was okay.

“It involves Camille,” Magnus said.

“Magnus, no,” Alec groaned emphatically. “Really? Her?”

“She’s Adriana's sire, and will be able to sense where she is,” Magnus protested. “It’s the easiest option.”

Alec scoffed. “Nothing with Camille is ever easy. She’ll ask for something, probably something you don’t want to give. It won’t go like with the Warlock Three. Magnus, we got _lucky_ then. But Camille has a vindictive streak a million miles wide.”

“You don’t need to tell me that,” grumbled Magnus. But Alec could hear the resignation in his voice and calmed a little. “Fine,” he sighed. “Then we’ll have to attend a Downworlder party next month. Adriana is bound to be there.”

“But so will every other Downworlder in a hundred-mile vicinity?” asked Alec dryly. He knew how these things went.

“Make that a thousand.” A loud thudding sound echoed in the background of Magnus’ end of the phone, but before Alec could inquire after it, he heard Magnus’ muffled voice calling, “Give me a moment!” He returned to the phone a second later, saying “Sorry, there’s a client at the door, and I’ve got to run. I’ll send you the details later, so you can pull yourself off-duty that night?”

“Sure,” said Alec agreeably. As long as Camille wasn’t part of the equation, he was fine with anything. “Oh, and before you go, I got a demon heart on mission today. So the heartstring should be taken care of, right?”

Magnus sounded pleasantly surprised in his exclaimed “Wonderful!” then followed with “Bring it when you come over.”

“Tomorrow night, right?” Alec asked. Because if Magnus was inviting him now—the spirit was willing, but the flesh was weak.

“Tomorrow night,” Magnus confirmed with a laugh, like he knew what Alec was thinking. His voice was flushed with fondness, and Alec felt a strong wave of endearment in return.

“Okay, yeah, I will. See you then,” Alec said. It was stupid, but he didn’t want to hang up, yearning to drag this conversation out forever.

“Bye,” Magnus chuckled, like he could read Alec’s mind, his laughter tinny and staccato across the phone. He lingered for a second longer, enough that Alec thought Magnus might force him to be the one to end it, before he heard a beep and the call dropped.

Alec pulled his phone from his ear and stared at it for a moment, running a thumb over Magnus’ name. The rush of tenderness within him was nothing new, but it was so strong now he could nearly taste it behind his teeth. Feeling ridiculous, he ran his tongue over them just to check. It was hard to believe his adoration had any place to go but outward, when it frothed with such passion, like a volcano on the verge of eruption.

* * *

The party Magnus dressed him up for was as boisterous as it was bright: every warlock Alec had ever seen in their database and more than double that who he didn’t know, a few sparkling faerie presences, and Catarina, who flitted in close to kiss Magnus on the cheek before disappearing into the crowd.

Magnus had a hand cupped around Alec’s elbow, slowly making their way through the entering crowd. More than a few guests stopped to greet Magnus, a casual touch to say hello, on his arm or shoulder or hip. Alec held himself tightly, even as the warlocks’ gazes slid right over him, the unassuming human on Magnus’ arm, the eye candy and frivolous whim for the night. It was lucky the New York Institute didn’t usually work with warlocks other than Magnus.

“Relax, Alexander,” Magnus chided when they were alone momentarily. He directed them closer to the wall and pushed Alec against it, shuffling in close, but not too close. Alec exhaled gustily, forced his shoulders to unwind, the tension to release from his spine.

He leaned forward and plopped his head on Magnus’ shoulder. “I’m not good at this whole,” he waved his hand around, and felt more than heard Magnus’ chuckle over the sudden noise of a group entering the main hall.

Magnus wrapped his arms around Alec’s waist, warm and close. “Should we make our escape then? Sequester away in a corner and get up to scandalous things? I’m sure there’s a plant here big enough to hide behind.”

Alec lifted his head and glared balefully. “Don’t tempt me,” he groaned. Magnus huffed another laugh, warm on Alec’s face, then pulled away. Alec followed him, unwilling to stray far from Magnus’ body heat.

Through throngs of guests, they walked along the main hallway and through the ballroom doors, immediately met with a louder din of chatter. The room was bright and sparkling, marked throughout with clear marks of the night’s magical nature: a floating chandelier suspended in the air, a musician on stage playing three instruments at once, a table laid with glowing wine, and everywhere, unglamoured warlock marks.

“The warlock marks,” he started. Magnus’ hand tightened around Alec’s, his only tell. “If I didn’t have the Sight, would I be able to see them?”

Magnus shook his head. With a stroke of Alec’s thumb over the back of his hand, his fingers relaxed, and any remaining tension disappeared. “No, we’re glamoured to mundanes.” It was good that Magnus was game to answer Alec’s questions, not balking at his often invasive curiosity. “Take care not to stare too closely, will you? You’ll give us away.” And Alec nodded.

“I wouldn’t,” he agreed. Magnus cast a smile his direction and squeezed his hand tight again, a fond gesture this time.

It took only a moment in the ballroom for Magnus to sweep Alec to the center, sliding past the main crowd onto the relatively empty dance floor. The light of the room glinted dangerously—compellingly so—off silver threads woven through the fabric of his jacket. It was a dashing look, one that made Magnus appear both ethereal and magnetic, like Alec would be drawn to him only to pass right through.

Magnus roped him into a swirl, tugging him close until Alec could feel the broad shape of Magnus’ muscles under his suit. “Do you know how to dance?” he asked, and Alec positioned his hand on Magnus’ waist in answer. He did, but only to lead, as he was taught years ago. For a moment, he thought Magnus might want him to defer lead—they’re attending a warlock party, and Magnus is a person of influence and status here—but Magnus complied easily, his hand coming up to rest on Alec’s shoulder, the other to grasp his hand.

“I thought we were here to meet Adriana?” asked Alec, as he pulled them into rhythm with the music. “I wasn’t expecting an old waltz.”

Magnus gasped dramatically, dropping his mouth in mock-offense, and Alec bit back an instinctive bark of laughter. “ _Old_?” he repeated, and turned his nose up. “We prefer ‘classic.’”

Alec laughed then, grinning as Magnus’ affront turned to amusement, and pulled him closer, so the span of his hand was pressed to the small of Magnus’ back. The warmth of him, of his body and presence, spilled through Alec’s body, to the tips of his toes. He was glad they were there.

“And besides,” continued Magnus. “Everyone knows I’m here already. It’d be peculiar if I didn’t show off tonight's eye candy a little.”

Alec rolled his eyes, but could feel a hot blush spread from his neck. “Now I feel like everyone’s staring,” he grumbled, not entirely displeased. Magnus seemed to know it, and he threw Alec an incendiary smirk, tracking his gaze up and down again in a deliberate once-over. Alec tamped down on a sudden bloom of want. Now was not the time, though Magnus seemed to be doing his best to make Alec forget it. “And now _you’re_ staring,” he pointed out, this time entirely pleased but regretful they couldn't abscond immediately.  

“You’re a good reason to.” Magnus’ hand shifted to Alec’s nape, dragging through the hair there. Alec shivered and landed a heavy gaze on Magnus, his eyes dipping down to his lips, then up to the kohl rimming his eyes. It was too much and not enough at once, Magnus’ hand heavy on his neck while he moved them in an easy promenade.

After another moment, another turn of the music, the song ended, giving Alec the chance to pull them from the floor. “We won’t get anything done if you distract me all night,” he said, which elicited a quick, “Which says nothing of your own ability to distract, Alexander,” in response.

In the crowd of those watching the dance floor, Magnus felt closer than ever. Alec might have been taller than many of the people around them, but he felt closed in by the steady hold Magnus had on his arm. He leaned in and kissed Magnus on the corner of his mouth, then shifted and pressed another full on his lips, sinking into it.

“Why don’t we just go back to yours?” he suggested. He brushed his knuckles along Magnus’ lapel, the same way he usually did before pulling Magnus in for a kiss. On the list of things Alec would like to do right then, Magnus was high in priority; the warlock contact Magnus was determined to speak to fell much, much lower. The familiarity with Magnus was a kindness, one that straightened Alec’s spine instead of laying unnecessary tension on his shoulders. Whatever riddles and favors this warlock required would only pull Alec in yet another direction, and he was already spread so thin.

“Soon,” Magnus promised, though Alec was hard pressed to find any reason his and Magnus’ definitions of ‘soon’ aligned. “We’re nearly finished—.”

A loud crack echoed through the room, louder than the music and dull roar of talking combined. Alec’s fingers itched immediately towards his stele, but Magnus held him tight and gestured to the ceiling, where a brilliantly lit Chthonian rune was crackling around the crown molding, large enough that its outward edges nearly touched the walls. Remembrance, it read.

“Is this normal?” Alec asked blankly. The room was bathed in red, the color of it, and when Alec looked at Magnus, he found his eyebrows furrowed mildly, staring up at the rune with some sad trepidation. “Magnus?”

Alec chanced a glance around, aware he was not supposed to be able to see the rune or these happenings, and found everyone else with their gazes turned up as well. Whatever this ceremony was, Alec had never been taught, but he was keenly aware of Magnus’ grip on his hand tightening to the point of pain. The game was up, Alec decided, and tilted his chin to look wholly upward—he’d just pretend to be a vampire, if it came to it.

Remembrance, he thought, and wondered at the size of the rune, how encompassing and heavy it felt, even in so light an atmosphere. The ballroom was hushed and off-kilter, and for one moment of bated breath, Alec realized the age of the people around him. That they would quiet for anything, especially after hearing Magnus’ stories of wild antics and wilder run-ins with authority, seemed to him a miracle.

Slowly, the rune faded, and the usual hue of the room returned. Alec blinked a few times, seeing its lasting imprint on his eyelids, before turning his scrutiny to Magnus. He contemplated if he should ask again when Magnus didn’t reply before, but didn’t know if that was accidental or not, and didn’t want to chance drowning an already oddly pensive event even further.

Beside him, Magnus sighed and tugged on Alec’s hand enough to signal their move to the side of the room. Ironically, they found themselves next to a large plant, leaves broad enough to hide them almost entirely from view, but Alec found only the barest of humor in it.

“Someone always does that,” Magnus sighed, resigned. There was an odd tilt to his voice that Alec didn’t recognize, but wanted to know.

He pulled his fingers from Magnus’ grasp, only to reach to cup his face. “I don’t know what that was, or what someone did ‘like always,’ but if you want to go, I’m more than okay with that.” You look sad, he didn’t say, though he guessed Magnus could read it on his face.

“It’s alright,” said Magnus, cupping his hand over Alec’s. His rings pressed lightly against Alec’s fingers, cool to the touch, but everywhere else, his hand was clammy and hot. He didn’t seem alright. “Every time we—Downworlders—gather like this, we schedule a moment to remember those warlocks and seelies and vampires we’ve lost since the last. The immortal lives and years taken from us. But someone always sets it off early—the rune, I mean.” His eyes darted up to the ceiling, as if he could still see the shape of it, and his hand fell back to his side, prompting Alec to do the same with his. Then Magnus added, forlorn: “It was large this year. The largest I can remember since Nephilim were still hunting warlocks.”

Alec was struck with a spike of remorse, a sympathy and horror that felt like his own measure of grief, and felt the gap between them deeper than ever. “I’m sorry,” he offered, but it felt like woefully little. In all Alec’s years, if he lived that long, he wouldn’t be a drop in the ocean of mourning for those lost, when they could have had forever.

He and Magnus lived in dramatically different worlds, as connected as they were, and contemplating it left a bad taste in Alec’s mouth. The sour feeling only doubled when he realized Magnus was staring at the ground, appearing smaller than he’d seen him before. Alec was more aware than ever that he didn’t belong here, a hostile in what he’d always seen as hostile territory.  

“Should we go?” Alec asked. Should _he_ go? It felt wrong to stay here like this, with Magnus’ mood obviously ruined and his thoughts straying to those he’d lost personally.

Magnus was silent for a second, then said, “I think I’d like to find Catarina, if you wouldn’t mind.” Alec didn’t mind, or at least, didn’t think he did, before the low hurt struck him. He’d like to be the one Magnus could rely on and turn to in sorrow, but even without the boundaries Alec had drawn before, he knew he wasn’t the right choice here.

“Of course,” he said, rubbing what he hoped was a soothing hand down Magnus’ arm. “Is she— Should you text her?”

But Magnus shook his head. “No need. She’s always by the drinks, after a surprise like this.”

“Okay,” Alec nodded, and let Magnus pull away from him. “Will you conjure me a portal to the Institute?” he asked hesitantly. “Or do you want me to come with you?” He didn’t know which choice would be worse; of course, being there for Magnus was important to him, but to see Catarina and him share in their moments of grief felt too intimate. Magnus, from the wry expression on his face, clearly thought the same.

“How about I portal you to my loft?” he offered. “And I’ll come straight to you, after.” A middle ground then, one that gave Alec the chance to hold Magnus in his arms, to make sure he was okay through the night, behind the privacy of closed doors. His nerves felt tinged with relief.

At Alec’s acquiesce, Magnus placed a portal on the wall behind them and watched him prepare to step through. He hadn’t touched Magnus since their hands had fallen away from each other earlier, and it felt wrong to leave tonight like that, even if Magnus promised to return later. Alec _could_ spend the next hour, or however long, just waiting, worrying, but he didn’t want to. He wondered if Magnus had ever placed him in that category, one of the Nephilim who used to take such joy in hunting warlocks to indulge blood-thirst and power.

Alec reached out and grabbed his sleeve, and Magnus’ eyes darted to his. “I’ll see you, okay?” he said. “I’ll wait up.”

Magnus protested immediately; Alec could see the automatic, “You don’t have to,” on his lips, but diverted it with a sharp look. “Okay,” Magnus relented. The warmth from earlier in the night had returned in increments, and Alec was struck with the urge to pull him close until it restored in full. But now was not the time for it, nor the mood, so he reluctantly let go and stepped backward, falling into the familiar dizzying freefall of magical travel.

Later, when Magnus portalled directly into the bedroom, Alec was lounging on the sofa. The sparking signature of Magnus’ magic raised the hair on his arms, and he heard the muffled thuds of Magnus flinging his shoes, as always, wide of their space under his closet dresser.

“Hey,” Alec greeted, plodding into the bathroom. He leaned against the shower door and watched Magnus pull on a soft shirt, eyeing the back of his head speculatively. Alec couldn’t tell if there was any lingering feeling of before, but he wouldn’t bet otherwise, either. “You okay?” he asked, then a second later regretted it, wishing he could suck it into his mouth, swallow it back down. It was a dumb question that could only disturb what demons had hopefully been laid to rest again.

But Magnus only turned a smile on him, and Alec spent a moment on silent thanks. “I am, thank you, Alexander. I know that tonight was not… what we expected it to be, but it was fun while it lasted, right?”

Alec took a few strides forward and placed a hand on Magnus’ neck, his fingers wrapping around to his nape. “I’m glad you’re alright. I wish—,” Wish that Shadowhunters had never hunted warlocks for sport, that the Circle never existed, that the Clave hadn’t scrambled to hide the monster of their own making, that Magnus never had to deal with Nephilim who thought they were above respecting him. But he said, instead: “I want to be here for you, whatever you need.”

Magnus’ eyes were still unglamoured, and they shone suspiciously brighter than normal. “And I, for you,” he replied, then changed the subject with all the subtlety of a rampaging rhinoceros. “Speaking of, I did find time to speak to Adriana. She’s promised a unicorn hair from one willing, whenever I have the chance to go see her.”

Alec took a moment to rewire his brain, then asked, “Just you?”

Magnus nodded, and confirmed, “Just me. Unicorns are actually demonic in nature. It’s for the best if you don’t scare them off.” He pulled Alec’s hand from his neck and held it lightly. “Now, to bed, shall we?” He towed them to bed, absently magicking the gel from his hair and makeup from his face on the way.

Alec slid into bed after Magnus, pulling the sheets up around them both. Without his makeup on, exhaustion was evident in the tight lines around his eyes, the furrow between his eyebrows and on his forehead. It was the last thing Alec saw before Magnus snapped his fingers and the room went dark. Later, he promised himself, he’d raise the harder concerns about Magnus’ and his differences, when they were on steadier, more sober ground.

Maybe Magnus didn’t want to talk about it, Alec supposed. And that was fine. He was sure Magnus talked enough with Catarina, or at least didn’t-talk enough to soothe their wary edges. But that Magnus found the time to seek out and speak with his warlock acquaintance about Alec’s problem, _for_ Alec, sprouted a bloom of affection deep in Alec’s chest. Every inch of Alec’s body reached out to Magnus with open hands, and he cuddled closer helplessly, drawn to Magnus as if by magic, or something of the sort.

“Thank you,” he said, as sincerely as he could make his voice sound. He pressed a kiss to Magnus’ temple and folded him into his arms, tight, the way he’d hold him until they invariably rolled away from each other. He found Magnus’ lips in the dark and pressed a soft kiss to that kind, sweet mouth. “Everything we’re doing is worth it,” he said, and this time it was not a prayer; it was a promise.

* * *

Alec was a melted puddle in the middle of their bed, come-dumb and brain off-line. He couldn’t move his arms even if he wanted to, and his legs felt like he’d just run a marathon. Absent, he shifted positions so that his hips would have a break from being spread.

“You killed me,” he groaned. “I’m never gonna get up.”

From the way he was breathing and his light, almost overwhelmed laughter, Magnus felt the same, but at least he was laying on the bed like a normal person, head on his pillow. Alec burrowed closer. He was so attracted to Magnus’ everything, he would climb into his heart and soul if he could. He wanted Magnus to be his home.

Alec buried his face in the soft skin of Magnus’ midsection, breathing him in and planting a few absent kisses. Magnus ran his fingers through Alec’s hair, a soothing pattern that had him liquefied, lifting both the tension from his shoulders and his next words from his tongue, almost unwittingly.

“I wish I could love you,” Alec confessed, and Magnus’ hand stilled. He didn’t draw away though. For a moment, they just breathed.

“But you do, Alexander,” said Magnus. “You do already.”

Alec sighed and rolled over, pulling off Magnus and facing the outside of the bed. He keenly missed the warmth of being close to Magnus, but for this conversation he needed more than a little space. Thinking around Magnus was so difficult sometimes, and damn, he hadn’t even meant to bring this up right now, when he was not prepared and feeling so vulnerable. The ease at which Magnus set him had worked against him. He was tired of mulling on painful realities.

“We might have sex,” started Alec. “But apart from that, we’ve just sort of.... fallen together, right?” He shrugged, off-kilter and unsure, and then startled when Magnus reached from behind to wrap a hand around his bicep.

Magnus said then, pensive and soft but the furthest thing from small: “That doesn’t mean you don’t love me. Love can be quiet sometimes. It’s between two people— or more,” he broke off with a small chuckle. “But no one gets to dictate what it means to love someone. What love is to you, or to me, or to us.” He sighed quietly, and his hand squeezed Alec’s arm in a way they both knew was grounding. “There are so many ways to love, Alexander. And I know you feel what I feel.”

Alec didn’t know whether to lean into Magnus’ touch or away from it. Already, this conversation had slipped away from him. He’d never had a handle on it in the first place. Alec rolled back over, dislodging Magnus’ hand but giving him the ability to watch Magnus’ face. A good, easy compromise.

“But _romantic_ love,” he protested. “Isn’t it supposed to be something _big_ , earth-shattering? The kind of change where nothing will ever be the same?”

For a moment, Magnus looked at Alec, his gaze inscrutable but intense. He turned over onto his back and stared up at the ceiling for a moment, then slanted his eyes in Alec’s direction. “Hasn’t it?” he asked mildly.

Denial was Alec’s instinctive response, but he bit it back beyond an immediate “But—.” With a huff, Alec tossed his head back into his pillow and joined Magnus in observing the still paint patterns above them.

The thought that Magnus could be right wormed its way through Alec’s mind, and he turned it over, and over, and over. He didn’t know if he loved Magnus, but the rising tide of feeling in his chest, that seemed to grow with every breath, felt impossibly immense. Maybe he did love Magnus, and maybe these adventures had been in vain. But maybe Iris _had_ taken his heart, and maybe he thought he might love Magnus, but didn’t.

But he wanted to, fiercely, like he couldn’t withstand if he didn’t. He rose up from the bed and looked over at Magnus, hovering over him for a second before placing a hand on his arm. Magnus drew in a breath and shivered, and Alec said, “I want to.”

He leaned in and pressed a deep kiss to Magnus’s lips, like he could pour these vast feelings into him through copious amounts of skin contact. Magnus inhaled sharply. Alec wanted everything with him.

“I want to love you,” said Alec. “Maybe you know that I do. But _I_ need to, also. I need to know, so I can tell you.”

Magnus reached up and ran a thumb over his cheekbone, regarding him with a rather besotted fondness that made Alec’s stomach devolve to fluttery shyness. To have such a strong regard turned to him was almost beyond comprehension. He felt foolish, under that gaze, but also expanding with a brilliant, furious light.  

“And we’ve come so far,” agreed Magnus. “We’ll get you there.”

“Us,” said Alec. Torn open and raw, he met Magnus’ eyes. “We’ll get _us_ there.”

* * *

Maryse opened her mouth once, then seemed to decide against what she’d been about to say. But she’d never been one to hesitate for long, especially around her own children. “Isabelle told me about what you’re doing, with Bane.”

Alec winced. He’d been under no delusional impression that Maryse wasn’t aware he’d been sleeping with Magnus, but the dates and trekking they’d been doing, digging deeper into the Downworld than Nephilim were usually allowed, seemed flighty in the face of her judgment.

“It’s personal,” he stated, because it was. “And it hasn’t, and won’t, affect my work.” He met her gaze, willing himself not to shrivel under the clearly disapproving severity of it.

“This is unnecessary,” she said. “Not to mention dangerous, and unsanctioned. Traversing into Downworld territory without telling anyone where you’re going is just careless. You’re asking for trouble, Alec.”

“I told Izzy,” he argued, already thinking of ways to convince her of the merits of his time with Magnus. He was so close, they were so close. But they were dealing with Downworlders, many that the Institute didn’t have any relationship with, and she was within her rights to order him off. He’d be hard-pressed to disobey, but he knew himself—he’d probably do it anyway, but incurring her wrath was only slightly below quitting with Magnus on his list of “do-not-wants.”   

Maryse sighed and took a seat on the sofa, her back straight and lips pursed. “It’s reckless, Alec. Not to mention jeopardizing civil relationships all over. You went to North Dakota! That’s nowhere near your—or Magnus’—jurisdiction. What if something goes wrong?”

“Nothing will go wrong,” Alec protested, jutting his chin out. Something would probably go wrong. Things had gone wrong. But she didn’t need to know that. “And Magnus and I are more than capable of taking care of it, if necessary.”

“These things can have repercussions. You’re playing with fire,” she snapped. Maryse gritted her teeth, the line of her jaw set and stubborn.

A slimy desperation crawled up Alec’s windpipe, alongside frustration at her overbearing nature. He was so tired of fighting the people around him for what he wanted, what he needed. He regretted the mistakes of his teenage self, stupid and scared and unable then to even look his mother in the eye. But things had changed since then, and he didn’t doubt her intentions like he once had. It was a hard pill to swallow sometimes, but she was looking out for him, in her own way.

“This is what’s best for me,” he said, knowing the hit would land, and watched as her eyes widened, her jaw came unlocked. “The repercussions… Look, we’re not hurting anyone, and I’ll take full responsibility if something happens as a result of my _personal_ business. But there _is_ an end goal here, and it’s for me. For something I need.”

Maryse sighed. “Isabelle wouldn’t tell me what this is all about, exactly. Just that you’re figuring out your… relationship with Magnus. But I need to know, if this has even the slightest chance of affecting the Institute, the Clave. Our family.”

Alec did not to want to go through the entire story of his young closeted woes. They wouldn’t even need to track Iris with the charm they were building; Maryse would turn over the world person-by-person until she was found. But she pulled the family trump card.

“Relationship, yeah,” he confirmed. “The whole ‘love’ thing has been hard for me, over the years. And this is to give me my ability to love back.”

Maryse was silent for a beat, then asked, “What do you mean, ‘ability to love?’”

Alec took a steely breath. “I bartered away my ability to love a long time ago, when I realized I was gay.” It had been a long time since Maryse had flinched at the word “gay,” but Alec was still thrown a few years back when her eyes widened in shock. It was at his explanation, he knew, but insidious barbs of shame still stabbed within him.

“You… what?” she said, distantly, her voice frozen.

Alec leaned back in his chair, his lips twisted in a grimace that mirrored the way his stomach turned. “I didn’t want to love, ever, if I couldn’t actually be with whoever _he_ was. I thought it would be a distraction. Unnecessary. But that was before I came out, before you…” He heaved a sigh, braced himself. “Before you were better than I thought you would be.”

Maryse’s heart broke on her face, clear in the still air of the room, before she pulled herself together in a single shoulder-tightening movement. She knew her own faults, the things that stood between them before, and didn’t fight him on it. Clearly bypassing what must have been a thousand other questions she had, she asked: “How can you think you don’t have the ability to love?”

“I gave it away. And I haven’t felt…” he waved his hand, gesturing aimlessly, “…had a crush, whatever, since.” Alec cut himself off before he began rambling, mortified at the path this conversation was going. _Feelings_ , who knew he’d be discussing feelings with Maryse.

“Alec,” she said. Maryse looked confused, a bit stricken still. “But you _can_ love.”

He shook his head. “Didn’t you hear what I just said?” he bit, but she only stared him down.

“Do you love Isabelle?” Maryse pointed out.

Alec sputtered, his ire snapped. “What? Of course I—.”

“And Jace? and Max?” she interrupted, her point now made.

“You know I do,” protested Alec.

Maryse regarded him with sharp eyes, and Alec was keenly aware of every time she’d ripped into him in the past, with a hard bluntness and tongue just cruel enough to do damage. With a sigh, Maryse uncrossed her legs and smoothed out the wrinkles of her dress.

“Then how is it that you don’t believe you can love?” she asked plainly, looking genuinely confused.

Alec was, too. “Because romantic love is different from platonic? And familial?” It came out as more of a question, and Alec kicked himself for it slightly. But he knew how it was: the spark of interest, the compatibility, the heat and intent of romance.

Maryse hummed in acknowledgement, then nodded slightly. “You’re not wrong,” she conceded. A pause, then, “But what is that difference?”

It didn’t feel rhetorical—and Alec would know, after all this time, with his mother—so he replied. “A spark,” he said. “A desire to _have_.”

Maryse was silent for a moment, thinking over her words, and then she asked, “Why do you think your father and I stayed together for so long after that spark had disappeared between us?”

Alec fell silent, staring at her. It was the first time beyond their original conversation that she had brought up her former marriage herself, and the topic had always seemed too risky to broach from his own side. Alec had figured they’d reached an unspoken but mutual agreement: _Let’s not talk about it unless someone’s life is in danger._ Unfortunately, Alec supposed now, someone’s was, at least according to her.

“Because you ran the Institute together?” he answered slowly, testing the words as he said them.

Maryse’s lips thinned, but she didn’t shoot him down. “That was part of it, yes. But more, it was that our love had shifted into something different over the years. Your father still loves me, Alexander,” Maryse said. No, _stated_. At his wide-eyed confusion—because of course, it made sense to have some fondness for the mother of your children, your wife for years, but if Robert still loved her, he never would have broken her heart—Maryse’s gaze softened, and she continued. “He loves me differently than he loves Annamarie, and perhaps less so now. But there’s still love.”

But no, that didn’t make sense. Because Robert cheated on her, and left her for someone else. As if their years of marriage meant nothing, as if their family wasn’t supposed to be forever. “But he cheated on you,” Alec blurted, and then wished he could take it back immediately. But Maryse appeared unfazed.

“And that’s why I left him,” she replied.

With a jolt, Alec realized his fingernails were biting into his palms, and he slowly unclenched his fists. He ran a finger over one of the crescent indents and said, “But you’re saying you still love each other?”

Maryse looked down at the floor, then ran a self-conscious hand over the armrest of the sofa. At least Alec wasn’t the only one having a hard time with this conversation. He’d be almost glad to give up his heart again if only to avoid talking about _feelings_ with his mother.  

“I love your father the way I love him. It’s tempered over the years. Perhaps we’re more like fond colleagues than anything else.” Maryse laughed, a little harshly. “Parenting, running the Institute, fighting together. Our marriage was just one series of jobs after another. Jobs we loved, but,” she shrugged, “Robert and Annamarie love each other, but that doesn’t mean his love for her, what _you’d_ say is that consuming _romantic_ love, is any more important than his love for me, or mine for him.”

“Mom—,” Alec interrupted blankly, unsure of what to say. He needed a moment to process all this. God, he needed ten moments.

Maryse shook her head and continued. “Listen,” she pressed. “His love for her gave him no right to cheat on me. And that’s why I left him.” She sighed and looked away, clearly discomfited, then set her shoulders and said, as strong as ever, “But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t love me. He just loves me as the mother of his children, his partner for many years. The point is: a long and lasting love comes in many forms, Alec. That’s what I need you to understand.”

It was more than he’d gotten out of his mother in recent memory, perhaps his entire life. He was pleased, in a small way, at this testament to her trying to mend their relationship. It would be good for Izzy, no doubt. But it was also an immense amount to take in. His mother, one of the strongest warriors and politicians he knew, baring her heart in _what_? An attempt to make Alec realize that he could love? It felt pointless, and a helpless sorrow reared its angry head within him.  

“But I want to be able to love, _romantically_ , Mom,” he said. He didn’t mean to argue with her, not after everything she had just said, but she didn’t understand. He wanted, so badly, to be able to feel this mythical, wonderful _love_. “There _is_ a difference.”

“Maybe,” Maryse conceded. “But you feel the same comfort and protectiveness for Magnus you feel for your family, don’t you?” And Alec nodded. “And you’re attracted to him; you like spending time with him.” That, she didn’t ask, instead simply stated it as fact. Still, he nodded again.

Alec crossed his arms, then decided the posture was too defensive, too formal for the way they were sitting. He uncrossed them self-consciously, aware of Maryse’s eyes on him. He sighed heavily and sagged in his chair, wishing that he was smaller, so he could just burrow away and hide from this. “What would you think if I said I believe you?”

She tilted her head. “What do you mean?”

“What I feel for Magnus… it’s so big.” He laughed bitterly, his own inability to articulate his vast, meaningful feelings thick in his throat. “Every sign points to me loving him. How can I not? What could be _more_ than this?” He shrugged helplessly and his lips twisted into a wry grimace when he said, pleading almost: “But I have to know. Do you get that? I have to _know_.”

He bit back an instinctive “please.” At this point, with what was at stake, he wasn’t too proud to beg, but he didn’t want to for this. He wanted this to be something freely given, something soft and generous and supportive.

Maryse regarded him for a long moment, piercing him to his core. Once, when he was young, he wished so hard to grow up into her solid gaze, impenetrable poker face. He’d thought it was her greatest strength. But then he came to know firsthand the truest weapon Maryse had: not how unreadable she was, but an uncanny ability to pull someone’s deepest secrets from their bones with that same icy, pointed look.

“Okay,” she said finally, and Alec was nearly stunned at her acquiesce. As he watched, she rose to her feet, dusting invisible specks off her clothes. She stood straight and tall, like she’d never known anything else, and Alec was filled with an indescribable fondness for her, and for her effort. “Be careful, and keep me updated, if you need the Institute for anything. Your personal business can become political, because of who you are. But I won’t get in your way. I…” She smiled just a bit, edges melted. “I hope this makes you happy.”

“Thank you. It will,” said Alec, his voice hoarser than he’d expected. He cleared his throat, watching Maryse step out the door. It took him a moment, but then he called with a soft smile. “Hey, Mom?” She turned back. “I love _you_ , too, you know.”

Maybe she didn’t. Maryse’s face crumbled in a series of expressions starting with surprised and ending with a sorrowful, joyful relief. How could he have let them come this far, for her to not even be sure?

“And I love you,” she said, her voice quiet. When the door clicked shut behind her, Alec stared at it and ached.

* * *

When Alec finally had a day off, he and Magnus found the time to make the journey to the closest mandrake town, a few states over. Magnus portalled them to the top of a mountainside, where the forest was thinning but shrubbery still covered the ground. The shadowed grass was teeming with life, flowers bloomed lusciously in the Spring, and he and Magnus both breathed deep at the same time, relaxing into the quiet hum of nature.

As they hiked up the rest of the way, pushing past logs and fallen branches, feeling the brush of leaves against their skin, Alec settled into the pace and quiet comfort of Magnus and their surroundings. It wasn’t often that he got to be out in nature without a mission on hand. It was refreshing change of pace.

They chatted about this and that, nothing and everything. Magnus told him about a new client of his, someone Alec should have known about from pop culture, but probably didn’t, and Alec talked about Max’s studies and most recent pass at troublemaking.

It wasn’t long before Magnus hummed quietly to himself and said, “I believe we’re almost there. Careful where you step—there are always some strays living on the outskirts of the town.”

Alec glanced down guiltily, back where his footsteps were marking the dirt. Speaking of: “Aren’t mandrakes territorial?” Alec asked. “And screech your ears off if you get too close?”

“Nothing like that,” Magnus waved him off. “It really depends on the children. The poor parents will let you have it if you wake one of them, and of course, at that point your ears are already bleeding from the babies crying.” He took a wide step to the right, avoiding some mandrake leaves poking inconspicuously from the dirt, and Alec followed close behind. “So double trouble, if you find yourself in the unfortunate situation of having woken a babe, but besides that,” he waggled his hand, “They’re so-so, most of the time.”

“So-so is hardly the most reassuring,” said Alec dryly, and Magnus laughed, high and bright, before beckoning him to his other side, pulling Alec with a hand wrapped right above his elbow. “Why didn’t we wear ear plugs, just in case?”

Magnus laughed. “It’s actually a breach of etiquette. Shows you don’t trust them, or yourself, to stay out of trouble.” He pointed a little ways in the distance, and said, “Come on, through these shrubs here. The main town is below the two oaks ahead.” Magnus trudged forward, trampling bushes in his wake, even as Alec asked, “What two oaks?” Magnus only waved in the vague direction ahead of them.

With a fond sigh, Alec followed obediently, taking care to step as closely as he could to Magnus’ footsteps. Unlike Magnus, he had a healthy appreciation for the beauty of nature and would rather not snap more branches than necessary.

As they walked, Alec couldn't help but notice how shapely Magnus’ ass looked in his pants—impractical for hiking, but flattering nonetheless. “Nice ass,” he called, and Magnus shot him a scandalized look over his shoulder, startled and delighted in turn.

“That’s hardly appropriate, Alexander,” he mock-gasped, as if he hadn’t spent the last five months wearing down Alec’s self-control during missions. “What would your mother say?”

“She’d ask you why you’re still stuck in the Victorian Age,” Alec teased.

Magnus harrumphed with a small giggle, but didn’t otherwise respond. He’d turned his attention back to the path at hand, navigating through bramble and roots that stuck up from the ground dangerously. Once, he almost tripped after catching his foot on the whorl of a root, but Alec was there to steady him.

“Careful,” he warned, and Magnus muttered a quick “Thanks.”

It didn’t take long to reach the oaks that Magnus had pointed out. They were clearly near-ancient, large and wide with strong and rough bark. “Wow,” said Alec, coming to a stop under one, and he looked up through the leaves of another, the white of the clouds and the blue of the sky melding together in the gaps. He touched the trunk of the oak reverently.

Magnus popped up by his shoulder, brushing gently against the tree as well. “Sometimes, life makes me feel so, horribly old.” Alec peeked at him, and Magnus turned from his melancholic staring to meet his gaze. “But when I see beings like this, I realize there’s so much of life left to live.”

Alec swallowed. “Yeah,” he agreed, even though he didn’t quite. The future didn’t unfurl plainly for Alec the way it did for Magnus. But his morose thoughts were interrupted soon enough.

“Hey!” they heard, and both turned. Behind them, to about the height of their knees and crossing his arms, stood the mandrake elder. He looked peculiarly like a particularly gnarled potato, but with appendages, a pear-shaped body, and a head. His nose twisted like a knot of wood, and his mouth was turned downward in a frown, though Alec wouldn’t have been able to tell if his thorn-like teeth hadn’t been bared too. The mandrake had no eyes, something Alec knew beforehand but was still surprised to observe. “What are ye doing here?”

Magnus spoke with no hesitation. “We require the leaf of a nursing mandrake for a charm. I might be wrong, but I believe that new mothers grow extra leaves, yes?”

It was news to Alec, but apparently correct. The elder’s snarl had disappeared, but he didn’t look any less unhappy to see them. “There’s only one nursing mother here, and ye can’t have her leaf. Any of ‘em.”

Magnus frowned. “Respectfully, we’d only need a small one, or even one she’s already shed.”  

“I said no,” the elder said. “Now get outta here.”

“Oh, don’t be like that,” a voice boomed from behind them. Alec and Magnus both jumped, pivoting with wide eyes. And then their gazes went upward, higher, until they hit on a face blinking tiredly awake. It was the tree they were standing under, his face made from the gnarls in his trunk.

“Oh,” Magnus breathed in surprise. “An ent.”

The ent went a little cross-eyed trying to look down its trunk at them, so Magnus and Alec took a few steps back. “A warlock and his Nephilim friend,” the ent exclaimed. “An interesting pair.”

“We didn’t mean to bother you,” Alec said. “We just wanted to ask about a mandrake leaf. Sorry for disturbing your sleep.”

The ent laughed, its leaves rustling. “Nephilim, I could be asleep for a hundred years and then awake for a hundred. Sleep matters little to me. My only concern is how terribly rude Grape is being to you.”

“Grape?” Magnus asked, at the same time the mandrake elder protested, “Hey!”

His name was Grape? Alec tried to catch Magnus’ eye, but couldn’t. He was looking between the ent and the mandrake elder—Grape—curiously. “If I may,” Magnus said, cautiously, but with a gleam in his eye. “Am I correct in assuming that this mandrake town is under your protection?”

“Aye,” the ent replied. “And my parent before me, and my forebears, though they’ve all slumbered dormant now for years.” A branch slithered out from the others and poked in the direction of the other oak tree, which stood tall and unassuming, silent as the ent hadn’t been.

“That changes nothing,” Grape grumbled. “Grall won’t be givin’ away her leaves if I’ve any say in it. She’s growin’ for two!”

The ent trembled and made a sound awfully like a disdainful sniff. “Please, I raised that child almost as much as you did. Who was the one who made a root shelter for your family during her first snow?”

Grape’s mouth downturned, but he looked less sure of himself. Or at least, that’s what Alec assumed, but without eyes or eyebrows or anything above his nose, there was no way to really read his expression. “I did my part. And ye did yers. Ye can’t hold it against me now.”

Alec was struck with the sinking realization that they seem to have started something like a platonic co-parenting lover’s quarrel. He glanced at Magnus, who this time met his eyes immediately. He made a face at Alec, like _Are you seeing what I’m seeing?_ Alec made the same face back, because, _Yes, what the hell?_

Grape and the ent went on for a few more moments, biting back at each other and in the ent’s case, rolling its eyes so hard Alec was sure they’d fall from its trunk. But when there was no other end in sight, Magnus finally interrupted.

“Respectfully,” he called. “Might we speak to this Grall, and ask her?”

“Yes!” the ent crowed, louder than Grape’s vehement “No!” Its leaves shook in excitement. “That sounds like a wonderful idea. I’m sure she’s around here somewhere.”

“I am,” a softer voice said. Out from the ground around the ent’s roots came crawling another mandrake, who shook her whole body like a dog and dusted herself off primly. She was shorter and rounder than the elder, like a plump onion. “I didn’t realize we had visitors though. I only heard you two arguing, like usual, an came to tell you to be quiet. The babe’s sleeping.”

Alec cautioned a greeting, making sure to lower his volume. “Hi, are you Grall?”

She nodded as well as she could without a distinct neck. “Yes, I am called Grall. And your request is fine by me. I wouldn’t mind giving you one of my leaves, but Papa is just an old grump who doesn’t like anyone but other mandrakes. Even those with the Sight.” She giggled, and her smile was like the gap between bark on a tree. “You should see how many mundanes find their way up here. It makes him even angrier.”

She waddled over to them on her short, stumpy legs. “Here,” she said, and plucked a leaf from the top of her head. It came easily, just like a hair, but when Alec took it from her, he found the leaf tough and unwieldy. “Please use it wisely,” she said. “Well, you don’t _have_ to, but we’d rather not have angry Shadowhunters knocking if you summon a demon or something.”

Alec blinked. That hadn’t even occurred to him, but if the mandrakes had thought about it, then: “You would give us your leaf even knowing that it could be used for harm?”

Grape laughed, a gravely sound. “The Seelie Queen won’t have a problem whiskin’ us away to her realm, now would she? You do you what tricks you wanna get up to, and we won’t be carin’ either way.”

“Oh,” Alec said. That did make sense. “Okay. Then, uh, thank you for the leaf, Grall. And it was nice to meet you, all of you.” Magnus nodded beside him, then echoed the sentiment out loud, remembering that mandrakes couldn’t see.

The ent shook its branches, almost like a wave goodbye. “I find I’m very sleepy on Tuesdays, or whatever comes after the day that mundanes come here in droves. So if you want to avoid Grape, you best come again on any other day.”

Alec bit back a laugh. “Yeah, we’ll keep that in mind,” he said.

He and Magnus took their leave, backtracking their steps through the undergrowth of the forest. But instead of portalling them back, or hiking down the trail that led downhill, Magnus pulled Alec the opposite direction. Alec didn’t question it, following gamely along, until the path opened up into a wide open field of tall grass and flowers.

“I thought we could have a picnic?” Magnus suggested as his gaze roamed the field, looking pleased.

Alec’s breath caught in his throat at the idea, and his eyes crinkled as he smiled widely. “I would love that,” he said.

Magnus magicked the mandrake leaf away and then with a twirl of his hand, summoned a large picnic blanket and plates of sandwiches onto the ground in front of them. In the steady afternoon sunlight, with the wind breezing through their hair, it was perfect.

Alec swallowed thickly, and his breath got stuck in his throat when Magnus leaned in with a sweet, soft kiss. The air in his lungs was light, his blood was giddy. Sitting with Magnus on this blanket and sharing sandwiches, with the rustle of the trees around them, he felt on top of the world.

There were no defenses built into Alec for this, and none that he could ever learn.

* * *

When it was all said and done, creating the tracking charm took almost no time at all. The mandrake leaf wrapped around the crystal multiple times, and Magnus skillfully tied it closed with a twine of unicorn hair and demon heartstring, exactly as the scroll called for.

It took even less time to locate Iris. Alec’s hand wrapped around the charm, and Magnus’ wrapped around his, and they clenched it tightly. Alec thought of the witch, the warlock, his heart, and every memory he had associated with the way she looked at him, the words she’d said. He could feel Magnus’ magic dipping into his and swirling around with it, their auras mixing.

And then his mind moved, rushing through the city, out of it, and across the countryside, then the ocean, wide and open, and land again, a lot of it, then finally: he gasped, and opened his eyes. “Was that… Nepal?”

Magnus nodded. “I know where it is. A warlock homestead, ancient and abandoned now, near one of the temples.”

“So you can get us there?” Alec asked.

With a wry grin, Magnus nodded. “Dear Alexander, I can get us on the doorstep.”

“That’s good,” Alec said distantly. The rush of their magic together, his and Magnus as they tracked Iris, was still dancing around inside him.

“Are you ready?” Magnus asked. He conjured a portal, bright and loud in the room.

Alec glanced at it, then back at Magnus, who was looking back at Alec like he was trying to crack him open and read every inch of his soul. It occurred to Alec how little he’d ever seen Magnus truly vulnerable, but here at the end of this all, Alec could see the worry, the sadness, the soft determination and selflessness.

Alec breathed in deep, but still shook quietly. He looked at Magnus, the whole of him, then the individual pieces, like his smile, his eyes, his earrings, and his forgiving, magical, open heart.

“Alexander?” Magnus prompted.

The confession tore from him. “I think I love you. And if I don’t, Magnus, it’s only because I can’t. And if that’s the case, well, I am as close to loving you as one person can be.” There were a million ways he could express himself to Magnus—each was only a raindrop in an ocean, but Alec cut himself off there. He shrugged helplessly, a bit self-consciously. “I just wanted you to know that, I guess. Before we go in.”  

Magnus’ eyes widened, then softened with something akin to devotion. “I love you, too,” he said. “Now, Alexander, let’s go get your heart back.”

They stepped through the portal, the world flipping over its head, and then stepped out in front of a temple. For a second, there was only stillness, the quiet of the hillside they were on. And then a wave of magic exploded out from behind the door, knocking Alec back several feet.

He looked up from the ground in alarm, his bow already unglamoured from his shoulder, only to see Magnus still standing, a shield of magic in front of him. And there, in the doorway, was Iris. She looked the exact same as she had all those years ago: the same drawn cheekbones and haughty nose, the same piercing eyes that had looked down at him.

Alec found his feet and took aim, firing an arrow close enough to graze a few hairs from her head. He didn’t want to kill her—they needed answers, but he alone would be outmatched by a warlock of her strength. When she flinched, Magnus took full advantage, pressing his magic to hers and backing her into the temple, out of sight.

Brushing the dirt from his face, Alec followed, nocking another arrow just in case. But as he’d assumed, Magnus had it all in hand. His magic enveloped Iris, binding her hands to her sides and her feet together. She was enraged but immobile, and Alec let his bowstring go lax.

“Magnus,” Iris spat. “Shacked up with a Shadowhunter, have you? I know what you’re here for.” She turned to Alec and seemed to appraise him in that cold, calculated way she did. “And _you_.”

“You know who I am?” asked Alec.

Iris shot him an incredulous, amused look. “I’d know the signature of your magic from anywhere, Alec… what was the name you told me? Ah yes, _Wayland_. Like I didn’t know about Maryse Lightwood’s oldest son.”

Hot anger spiked in Alec, but he pulled in a breath and forced himself to calm. “We’re not going to kill you,” he said. Magnus and Iris both looked at him in surprise. They hadn’t discussed this, but he knew Magnus had always assumed Alec would want vengeance for what Iris had done. Still, she’d only taken what had been offered, after all. His mistakes were on him, no matter where Magnus lay the blame. Plus, when it came down to it, he knew Magnus had strong inhibitions about taking immortal life.

“You’re not?” she asked. Magnus just kept staring at him, the decision left in his hands.

Alec shook his head. When people thought they were going to die anyway, they didn’t tell the truth. The gift of mercy and the possibility of survival, it seemed, were the best motivators in interrogation. “I want the truth about what you took from me, and how it works. If you give me that, we’ll let you go.”

“How will you know if I’m telling the truth or not?” Iris frowned.

Alec shrugged. “Convince me. You don’t know what my life’s been like for the past ten years. Only the truth would fit right. So don’t even try lying.”

“And you’ll actually let me go, after?” she asked. Her eyes were wide and hair mussed, looking every inch like a frightened middle-aged woman. Yes, Alec could see how he had underestimated her when he was a teenager. Iris looked helpless, but now he knew she was anything but.

“That’s what I said,” he agreed.

“A blood oath,” she demanded quickly. “I want it bound by blood.”

“No!” barked Magnus. “There will be no such thing. You will tell us the truth or I’ll rip your arms from your body. How’s that for blood?”

Iris grit her teeth and struggled against the magical bindings, but to no avail. It took Magnus tightening them dangerously for her to stop, and when he loosened them again, Iris sagged into their hold. She had no power to bargain here. “Fine,” she said, looking away. “You win.”

A long pause followed, and Alec prompted: “So?”

“You know already that I specialize in emotion magic, and what connects us, and the power that comes from that. Love is the strongest of emotions. And well, your offer was too good to pass up. The energy from the potential of love I took from you… I exhausted it only a year ago, it lasted for so long.”

Alec’s chest tightened. So it was true then, that she’d taken his love? The way she spoke of it echoed in his head, the same way she had crooned all those years ago, cupping his chin in a way he should have known was dangerous. He should have known.

“So it’s true then?” he said, weary and fatigued. “I can’t love?”

Iris gazed at him for a long moment, tilting her head to one side. Was it pity that colored her face? “I never said that. There are so many different ways to love, and as a result, so many different types of it. I didn’t take every love from you, Alec. Just the one that was hurting you.”

Alec couldn’t speak. He—. “What does that mean?” Magnus demanded, his voice bitter and angry. Iris had taken something from him, but not everything? But the love that had hurt him was romantic in nature, which meant he had been right, when talking to Magnus before. Grief bubbled inside him, enveloping his lungs until they couldn’t expand, until he was choking on it.

“I took the love of infatuation from him,” said Iris. The air around him held its breath. “Of petty crushes, I guess you could call it. The stuff that makes kids swoon and do stupid things. Each measure of infatuation is weak by itself, but oh, the combination of all of someone’s minor crushes? The power there, it was _immense_.”

Alec swallowed thickly, feeling his heart lodged in his throat and at the bottom of his stomach, both. “So I can love?” he asked, his voice raw.

“You didn’t offer the type of love you’re worried about, the deep and abiding one, the one that makes you want to marry someone. So, no, I didn’t take it.” Iris pursed her lips. “That’s the truth, Alec Lightwood.”

The pieces fell into place, slotting as he’d demanded into the holes of his life. The way he hadn’t looked at Jace as more than a brother, the way he hadn’t romanticized the one-night stands he’d had, the way he stopped fantasizing about the random people who smiled at him. Those teenage, boyish crushes he’d harbored, the people who had once made his heart flutter—that was what Iris had taken from him.

But Magnus and he had come together in an entirely different way. It was never small and fluttery with Magnus. Their gravity had always been inexorable, a burning flame drawing in moths to catch on fire, an emotion so strong, it filled his body with every heartbeat.

Alec felt shaken, blindsided by something everyone else instinctively knew, the same way he once did when he was thirteen and thought about a boy and his brain had echoed “ _Oh_.” Alec’s heart unfolded, wide open, and the world rushed in.

“Magnus,” he breathed. Their eyes met, and it felt like destiny, like fate come full circle, right into Alec’s waiting arms. That was the truth. He could love, and he did. He turned to Iris and nodded. “Let her go, please, Magnus.”

Magnus knew what that meant, for Alec to agree. His eyes widened, surprised and joyful. With a wave of his hand, the bindings fell away from Iris, but before she could do more than stand, he conjured a portal behind her and pushed her through.

“Where is that taking her?” Alec laughed.

“Florida,” Magnus shrugged. “But that doesn’t matter. I have a much more pressing matter to attend to. Namely,” he said, crowding into Alec’s space. “You.”

Magnus reached a hand out and placed it gently atop Alec’s chest, right over his heart. Alec felt full of love, of the sweet tender ache, like a bruise he wanted to press on so it’d never go away. They smiled at each other, sinking in. Magnus’ hand dropped to meet Alec’s, and he pulled him out of the temple with their fingers intertwined.

Alec was floating, ten inches off the ground and suspended in mid-air on an immeasurable cloud of pure joy, the swelling sea and rising tide, the trees blooming all at once. He glowed with it from the inside-out, and he smiled so large that his eyes crinkled and his nose scrunched up and his cheeks hurt with it, but he couldn’t even think of stopping.

“Magnus,” Alec said, like a revelation. He pulled Magnus closer and kissed his cheek, then his lips. “I love you.” He meant it, wholeheartedly.

Magnus grinned at him, leaned in and touched his forehead to Alec’s. “Oh, Alexander,” he said. “You already said that.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading. as always, you can catch me over on [tumblr](http://apartmented.tumblr.com)  
> or [twitter](http://twitter.com/inviq). i would love to hear your thoughts in the comments. 
> 
> this is the last non-commission fic you’ll get out of me for shadowhunters, though if you'll be leaving a comment, please make it about the fic and not about this fact. it’s been a wild trip, and i’m glad to end it with a 30k bang. 
> 
> this fic was immensely fun for me to write, from start to finish, and includes gems such as my first action scene and an actual plot (a first for me!), so i hope you had as fantastical a time as i did. 
> 
> happy 3B everyone!


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